Crawl Out
by Screwloose
Summary: What if Nate and Nora hadn't had an infant, but three teenage children instead? What if those children made it out of Vault 111 rather than their parents? How would three children survive in a dead world? How would things be different? This story aims to uncover just that.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Chapter 1: The Beginning

"Kit, did you finish your homework yet?" Mom called from somewhere in the house, her voice muffled by numerous walls.

I sighed heavily, knowing she wouldn't be able to hear me. My mom wasn't the kind of lady you wanted to sigh at, not unless you wanted a slap to the back of the head. I dropped the remote on the couch, writhing slightly as I stretched heartily, having been jolted from my television induced trance. It was the weekend, and I was enjoying my (very fake and delusional) lack of responsibilities without my mother bringing them up.

"No!" I responded, voice warbling as my body trembled in the release of relaxed muscles. "It's Saturday!"

"Why put off to tomorrow what you can do today?" Came her shouted reply, the sound of the washing machine rumbling to life.

I rolled my eyes, falling backwards on the couch and wishing that the burgundy cushions could swallow me whole. I'd spent nearly my entire day lying on the couch, only getting up to get dressed in a nice pair of clothes, basking in the sunlight coming through the bay window beside it and trying to forget that I did in fact have an excessive amount of homework due come Monday. That's what I get for taking Advanced Placement classes and Dual Enrolling at the local community college. Nonetheless, I was fairly certain that if I went back to my room and opened my backpack, I'd be at the business end of a nervous breakdown, so I decided to continue pretending I was carefree and at ease.

"Why do today what you can put off till tomorrow?" I asked myself, not daring to say it any louder lest I be overheard

I relaxed into the soft furniture, eyes sliding closed and inhaling deeply the smell of lemon cleaner and laundry detergent. The house always smelt clean, even back where my brothers' room was. That was an impressive feat all on its own, a real tip of the hat to our Handybot. The sound of running water in the kitchen caught my attention, and I cracked an eye open to see who it was.

"Hey, Codsworth?" I asked, throwing a leg over the back of the couch.

"Yes, Miss Katherine?" Came the slightly accented voice, and the soft humming of him approaching.

Our Handybot came to a stop at the end of the couch, waiting patiently for me to say something.

"Where are Kiefer and Killian?" I queried, trying to recall where my brothers had been when I had woken up this morning.

"I believe Master Kiefer and Master Killian are in their respective rooms, playing a 'Call of Duty 25', Miss." Codsworth informed, his arms spinning absently by his sides.

I hummed in recognition, nodding my head as I tried to decide what I was going to do with that information.

"Thank you, Codsworth." I dismissed, rolling back over onto my side and staring at the television set.

The talking sponge on the screen danced around with the talking starfish, the cartoon a vestige from my grandparent's youth that still somehow managed to be relevant through the decades purely on the fact that it was mind numbingly entertaining. My eyes drifted past the TV to the empty bowl of cereal sitting on the coffee table. I knew I should grab it and put it in the dishwasher myself, but the lazy side of me knew that Codsworth would come by eventually and pick it up. Guiltily, I decided if it was still there in the next five minutes, I'd put it away myself.

Flicking my eyes to the left, I took in the boxed flag sitting on the bookshelf that made up the entertainment center. Dad's flag and a plaque stood side by side, a testament to his time in the U.S Army and the sacrifices he gave for his country. Beside it, Mom's certificate from graduating college with a Law degree was proudly displayed to the world, as were the numerous newspaper clippings in frames that documented all of the cases she had won as a prosecuting DA for the Commonwealth. That was all for them. All the other shelves, instead of housing books like they were supposed to, held trophies and awards and certificates from myself and my two brothers. It was a hodgepodge of miscellaneous recognitions of our intellectual, social, or athletic prowess in school and our personal lives.

Mixed in with the awards were pictures of the family and extended family, making it basically just a mess of memorabilia. I felt like it pretty much encapsulated who we were as a family – that is, the fact that as a family we were very family-orientated.

"Hey, Kit." Dad said as he entered the living area.

I peeked over the edge of the couch as he came in from the hallway, noting his freshly shaven cheeks and hair wet. Now, Dad wasn't usually the kind of guy to get a shower in the morning time without reason (being one of those night bathers), and I would have been confused if I didn't know what he was prepping himself for, and why he was awake so early when he was usually the kind of guy to sleep in.

"Are you nervous about giving a speech at the Veterans Hall ceremony this afternoon, Dad?" I teased, a smirk pulling on my lips.

Dad shot me a wide-eyed look, a hand flying to his chest in surprise and a gasp of shock leaving his lips in an exaggerated manner that had me rolling my eyes before he'd even spoken.

"That's _this_ afternoon?" He fretted in false horror. "Oh, my, I – I completely forgot!"

"Ha ha, Dad." I muttered dryly.

"No, Kit, what should I do?" He continued on with the act, walking over to me and grabbing my shoulders as he shook them in fake panic. "I'm not ready! I haven't prepared! Maybe I should fake my death and take on a new alias. That way-,"

"You're no fun, Dad." I struggled out of his strong grip, a smile on my lips even as I glared at him halfheartedly.

My father, Nate Martin, was handsome still even though his weathered face was showing his age. At just a shade past forty years old, laugh and sun lines had etched themselves into the once smooth skin on his tanned face. His dark black hair was damp and slicked back from his face, his usually hard blue eyes soft as he joked with me. Even still, I could see a tiny sliver of exhaustion in them that was always present no matter his mood. I called it the War Effect.

Nate Reginald Martin, a retired soldier who served in the 2nd Battalion, 108th Infantry Regiment of the U.S. Army during the Sino-American War. I had been rather young when he had gone off to war, to serve his country, but I remember his absence vividly. He always came home whenever he could, taking leave as often as his superiors would allow him, but it never seemed quite enough. But, after being honorably discharged three years ago, he was finally finding his place in the family he had reared and was actively raising the three children he'd brooded. Quite frankly, it was almost strange to have him so involved in our lives – a good strange, but strange nonetheless.

"I'm tons of fun." He countered, letting me go so that he could walk over to the kitchen where Mom had entered while he'd been faking a panic attack, the woman scanning the newspaper in front of her.

"You'll knock 'em dead, honey." Mom greeted her husband with a kiss as he moved past her towards the coffee pot.

Nora Elaine Martin, A.D.A of the Orlando D.A office, was a few years older than her husband but looked a few years younger. Her golden-brown hair was down, since she wasn't working today, and hung just above her shoulders in a no nonsense straight cut. Hazel eyes were emphasized with a pair of plain black glasses perched on her nose, making her heart shaped face seem even more so. Some would say my mother was a plain looking woman, but I thought she was beautiful. Was I biased? Was it because she was my mother? Or was it because people were always saying how we looked so similar and I was vainly hoping that some of her subtle grace would some day pop up on my face instead of the wayward zit?

"You think so?" Dad questioned absentmindedly, pouring himself a cup of straight black coffee and drinking it still piping hot without even flinching. "What are we doing for dinner?"

"Why don't you ask Codsworth?" Mom suggested, pulling a highlighter out from behind her ear and dragging it across the newsprint in front of her.

She was already dressed and ready to go even though we still had about an hour until we were supposed to be walking out the door. That being said, I'd been ready myself for almost an almost _two_ hours, so I had no place to judge her.

"Did you call for me, Mum?" The Handybot questioned as he floated into the kitchen from the back of the house.

"Just wondering what was for dinner, Codsworth." Dad asked.

"Ah, well, Sir, I have a planned for a simple three course meal in celebration of your recognition. To start the night, we'll have a tossed salad with vinegar and herb dressing – minus the olives, of course, for you Mum, and…"

I stopped listening not even halfway through as two bodies vaulted over the couch and landed on either side of me, sending my body into the air for a moment before gravity grabbed a hold of me and yanked me back down. I grunted at the impact, head whipping from side to side to glare at the newcomers while simultaneously straightening my dress.

"I was enjoying my solidarity." I complained, leaning back into the cushions after quickly snatching the remote before the young man at my left could snag it.

"Ah, Kit." Killian groaned. "You've been hogging the TV all day."

I raised an eyebrow at my younger brother by two years. At fifteen, he had the horrible tendency to act like five. His black hair was shaved on the sides and spiked up loosely on top, the smell of gel wafting off of him the way most young men would smell like cologne. Hazel eyes like our mother sent me an annoyed look, one dark eyebrow arching to further show his displeasure.

"Well, guess what." I said matter-of-factly. "You both have TV's in your rooms."

"So do you." Kiefer, my older brother by two years informed.

With the same light golden-brown hair as me, we should have resembled each other the most but we didn't. Not only did his hazel eyes match those of Killian, but their facial structure and build were similar as well. The angles and strong jawline of our father had been gifted unto them, whereas I sported my mother's softer features.

"I was here first." I informed, holding the remote jealously tight in my grip.

"Technically, I was here first." Kiefer informed, referring to our birth orders for the thousandth time in an effort to win an argument.

I shot him a blue glare.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go?" I questioned with narrowed eyes.

"I am ready." He frowned, looking down at himself.

Dressed in a pair of nice jeans and in a button-down shirt, his light brown hair long but slicked back with gel, he did look quite presentable and ready to go. Nonetheless, I made a point of giving a onceover with a skeptical look on my face. He bristled, assuming that I was judging him negatively.

"What?" He demanded, looking down at himself worriedly.

"Oh, nothing." I dismissed, stifling my smile and knowing that the paranoia was going to eat at him for the next half hour or so.

"You're such a bitch." Killian snickered, making sure to keep his voice soft so that we wouldn't be heard in the other room where the adults and Codsworth were congregated.

Turning to him, I gave him the same onceover as I had Kiefer. Tight fitting dark jeans, a burgundy dress shirt and black vest paired with a pair of shiny black dress shoes. Killian was never a one to miss the chance to dress up fancy, and he never slacked when given that chance. I gave him the same appraising look before snorting and turning back to the TV.

"I invented that." He snapped. "That won't work on me."

"Mmhm." I agreed lazily, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"What about you, huh?" Killian tried to turn it on me.

I glanced down at myself with no concern, knowing that I looked just fine. I was dressed in a simple pale blue dress that showed off my shiny legs I'd painstakingly gone over with a razor for an hour and a half. With my long hair pulled back in a French braid and my feet encased in a pair of white canvas shoes, I managed to balance formal with the not-quite-cold weather of fall in Massachusetts. Where my brothers would be damp and sweating only an hour after being outside, I'd be cool and comfortable.

"I think I'm good." I assured him cheekily, propping my feet up on the coffee table.

Killian made a grab for the remote, but I yanked it away for him just in time for Kiefer to wrap his hands around it from my other side. I snapped my teeth at him angrily, trying to jerk the device free to no avail. Killian joined, boxing me between the two of them as he added his own hands into the mix. We all wanted to watch something different, meaning that there were no friends to be had here. This was our war and there could only be one winner. All three of us completely disregarded the fact that our tussle was most definitely going to wrinkle our nice dress clothes.

Our bickering fell to the wayside as our attention was jerked to the TV, but with confusion as the sponge and starfish were suddenly replaced with gray and white scale of the WWN station. Chet Hallowman's face took up most of the screen, and since it did we were more than able to see the stark fear etched into his features. A thin sheen of sweat covered his heavily powdered face, making it look like somebody had smeared him with paint instead.

"We interrupt this program to inform you of some harrowing news." Hallowman's voice was stunted and strained, and each word he spoke was disjointed, as if he couldn't believe he was saying them. "The information is coming in as we speak, as we are being updated live, and it seems that we have reports of what appears to be…bombs…being dropped along the eastern coast."

The bickering between the three of us died abruptly as we took in what he was saying, a dead silence settling in the absence of it. Hallowman was staring straight into the camera with one hand by his ear to press the radio firmly into his ear canal to hear better. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"We…we have confirmation that there have in fact been bombs dropped in major cities along the eastern coast. Confirmed hits include Augusta, Maine. Laconia, New Hampshire. Providence, Rhode Island. New York, New York. Albany, New York –,"

"Mom, Dad!" I hollered, my voice shrill as nervousness crept into it.

Both of my brothers mimicked my cry, forming a cacophony of desperation. The quiet conversation in the kitchen halted as they heard our call, and it must have been the panic in it that had them hurrying their steps as they stepped around the half-counter and entered the living room.

"What's wrong?" Dad questioned, put on edge by the obvious distress in our voices.

Kiefer pointed at the television set, face pale and eyes wide. As a whole, our attention returned to the news anchor.

"…yes, followed by…flashes, yes, blinding flashes…sounds of explosions. We're, uh, trying to get confirmation whether or not these bombs are nuclear. We've seemed to have lost contact with our outpost stations. W-We do have coming in, that's confirmed reports – I repeat, that's _confirmed reports_ of nuclear detonations in New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, South Carolina…oh my God."

With that last whispered word, Chet's face was replaced with a static screen before the NO CONNECTION screensaver popped up on the little set. A brief silence followed as we all sat there in fear, our hearts in our throats and disbelief flooding through our veins. This couldn't be happening. This was the kind of stuff that only occurred in videogames, horror movies, and science fiction novels. There was no way this could be happening to _us_. I wrote about this kind of crap in my journals when I wasn't burdened by schoolwork; it was all fictitious. This wasn't happening, not really. A bad dream? Maybe. I pinched my thigh hard, harder, and then so hard that I actually felt the tissue underneath my skin crackle as vessels popped. The pain was immense, and I still found myself staring at the NO CONNECTION screen. It wasn't a dream.

"Mom, Dad." Killian's voice broke as he turned around to look at our parents over the couches back. "What's happening?"

Kiefer and I mimicked him, staring wide eyed at the two of them as they looked back at us. Shock and disbelief seemed to be a shared quality between the lot of us as we sat in the quiet of suburban Massachusetts. Massachusetts…that was one of the states with confirmed nuclear detonation. I jumped violently and yelped as a loud and painful siren broke our reverie, howling like a wounded animal at a decibel that was sure to wake the dead. I knew that drill – it ran every week on Wednesday as a practice drill. Today was Saturday. The Nuclear Warning Sirens. No, please God, this wasn't happening.

"Dad?" I croaked, pushing myself up off of the couch alongside my brothers.

"We need to get to the Vault, now!" He snapped, all of his previous horror gone as he fell into the commanding and persevering soldier he had been years ago.

"Oh my God, Nate." Mom whispered, face drained of all color.

"Not now, Nora." Dad shook his head, grabbing her arm and pushing her towards the door. "Kids, let's go."

When we didn't move, fear freezing us to the spot, his voice rose.

"Now!" He shouted.

Like somebody had waken me up from a dream, I jumped and blinked before grabbing Killian's arm and tugging him with me around the left side of the couch as Kiefer stumbled around the other side. Fear wracked my body, making me light headed and nauseous as reality started to hit me. Just minutes ago, I had been arguing with my brothers about Spongebob Squarepants, and now we were being ushered out the front door to the neighborhood streets. I nearly tripped over my feet as I shoved my younger brother in front of me in line for the door.

"Oh, dear." I heard Codsworth fret, hovering nearby the door as his visual receptors grew and shrunk in panic.

"Stay safe, Codsworth." Mom called in a wavering voice over her shoulder.

"And you, Mum!" He hollered, voice quavering.

I blinked, disoriented as the morning sun overhead blinded me, the faint heat suffocated me, and the wailing sirens deafened me. I felt Killian's fingers wrapped around my wrist in a bruising grip, and my own were latched into Kiefer's shirt as we waited like lost kittens for our parents to take the lead. All deep thought left my mind, and I was only aware of the here and now. Eyes fluttering, I took in my surroundings.

It was chaos.

Families poured out of their houses, people were screaming, kids were crying, dogs were barking. Some of our neighbors were frantically hauling messily packed suitcases into cars, but most of them were sprinting down the street in the direction of the Vault. Its construction had begun back when the Sino-American War started, but it hadn't been fully completed until a year ago. It had been a big deal, in our neighborhood especially since the Vault was literally at the end of the subdivision on top of a hill. The billboard could be seen even from here, showing the smiling cartoon of the Vault-Boy that was Vault-Tec's mascot. When the Vault-Tec salesman had knocked on our door to try and sell us one, Dad hadn't wasted much time in signing. I had thought he was being paranoid. I was wrong.

"Go!" Dad snapped from directly behind us, hands latching onto our shoulders roughly with adrenaline.

We were running before I could fully grasp it, falling in with the rest of our neighborhood as we sprinted towards the paved road that had been put in to make the trip up the steep hill easier. Killian was quicker than all of us, but even though our safety was a good hundred feet away he didn't stray from our group. His fear of the unknown was greater than his fear of the incoming bombs. A deep whirring noise made my head whip up as we darted down the street. Vertibirds hovered above us in the air, coming from the direction of Boston.

"Residents of Sanctuary Hills," Came the voice of one of the soldiers hanging from the Vertibird's open side, "if you are registered, evacuate to Vault 111 immediately."

My attention was pulled back to the ground as tanks started rolling over Sanctuary Hill's bridge, soldiers already on the ground and directing the mob of people in the proper direction. I was breathing hard by the time we crossed the bridge that arched over the shallow stream that fed the swift and rough river carving Sanctuary Hills away from the rest of downtown Boston. I wasn't in the best shape and having asthma didn't help to make our evacuation any easier, but even though my breath was wheezing in and out of my lungs I didn't slow down. In fact, I just ran faster.

As we marched up the steep incline, seeing the advertisement billboard situated prominently at the top of the hill, we came to an abrupt stop. A mass of people had congregated in front of the chain-link fence that prevented them from continuing towards the Vault. Soldiers were positioned along its length, armed and very visibly stressed by the look on their faces. A hand shoved into my shoulder, sending me to the ground as Mr. Alderman and his wife, neighbors of ours for years, bulldozed me over to try and reach further into the writhing crowd. I hit my knees hard, wincing as skin split on asphalt.

"Son of a bitch." I heard Kiefer snarl.

Hands grabbed my arms, hauling me back to my feet. I muttered a shaky thanks to my older brother before Dad was taking my hand firmly in his. I looked up at him, felt somebody else grab my free hand, and then looked behind me to see Kiefer repeating the gesture with me and Killian. Mom brought up the rear of the group. Then, we were moving again. I whipped back around to face forward, watching as Dad aggressively shoved our neighbors out of his way as we made for the gate. I was only half-surprised by his callousness, knowing that he would sacrifice everybody here if it meant getting our family to safety. My hands were sweating, and I worked hard maintaining a strong grip on my brother and father. Thankfully, we reached the man with the clipboard without incident.

"If you're in the program, step forward! Otherwise, return home!" The soldier was shouting.

"We're on the list." Dad informed, stopping in front of the man with the clipboard. "Nate Martin."

The man turned his shade covered eyes to the papers in hand, hesitating only a moment before finding the information he needed.

"Martin family; adult male, adult female, three children. Alright, go ahead." He stepped out of the way and ushered us all forward with a wave of his arm.

"Thank you." Dad muttered in passing, yanking me with him as he shot forward.

I threw a glance over my shoulder to make sure we were all accounted for, saw the way our neighbors tried to surge after us with angered and fearful shouts. They were abruptly caught and shoved back by the Vault-Tec soldiers. I caught the eye of Mandy Hobart, a girl I went to school with who lived a few doors down from us. We weren't friends, but the look of abhorrence she threw at me as we saw one another nearly took my breath away.

"You five, follow me." Another man ordered us, taking over where the last one left off.

He was dressed in a vibrant blue jumpsuit, body armor covering his vitals with the words Vault-Tec stamped on the clothing. We released our grips on one another as the crowd had dramatically thinned, following the Vault-Tec worker.

"What's gonna happen to all of those people outside, Dad?" I asked shakily, Mandy's eyes haunting me.

"Don't worry about them, Kit." Dad told me grimly.

I hadn't seen the Vault entrance until just now, and it wasn't what I had expected. It looked more like a landing pad than a doorway, blue and yellow and already holding a small group of people who trembled as they waited impatiently for the Vault-Tec workers to lower them into the mountain.

"Step on the platform." The worker leading us ordered, nearly shoving us one by one onto the pad. "In the center.

Our footsteps were loud on the hollow metal, clanging unpleasantly and jarringly. And suddenly, after minutes of panicked sprinting…we were still. We had to wait, had to stand there and just twiddle out thumbs. That was almost worse than the dead sprint to make it up the hill. The five of us formed a close circle, eyeing each other and heaving panicked breaths. Mine were the loudest, ripping from my lungs in a whistling manner that had Mom reaching for me.

"Nate, her inhaler-," Mom said urgently to my father.

Dad fumbled in his pockets with hands that only shook minutely. I usually forgot to keep the small inhaler device with me, not needing it unless I exerted myself enough or worked myself into a tizzy. Dad had taken on the habit of carrying a spare on him usually at all times, and I was just lucky that it was a habit that had stuck. He pulled the little medicine container free, handing it to me. I took it with trembling fingers, popping off the attached cap and wrapping my lips around the nozzle. Pressing the metal canister down, I inhaled deeply as a shot of icy cold air rushed into my lungs.

Forcing myself to hold my breath, I pulled the inhaler away and tasted the artificial plastic taste of the ultrafine powder. Thankfully, the tightness in my chest eased bit by bit as I tried to let to let out a controlled breath. Mom's hand on my back continued to rub in small comforting circles as I came down from my asthma episode, clenching the inhaler tightly in my fist.

"Are you okay?" She asked, nervous eyes flickering between me and the beautiful horizon that had Boston highlighted against pale blue sky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't get the chance.

I heard it before I saw it, the booming noise of the bomb touching down on earth. A flash of blinding white light assaulted my eyes next, and I brought my hand up to try and block some of it. Screams erupted around me, male and female, but I found myself unable to utter a sound. Instead, I stared in dumbstruck awe at the brilliant illumination coming from the direction of Boston. It was strangely beautiful, and I almost missed the screeching of metal as we started to abruptly descend.

The blank whiteness disappeared in a flash, revealing the giant ball of orange that grew in size and intensity by the second, like a second sun hurtling into the sky. Even it dimmed, though, and the telltale mushroom cloud plumed in its stead. I saw the shockwave racing across the landscape, the force of it knocking trees over and sending shards of miscellaneous material whizzing through the air to form a black wave of debris that raced towards us faster than the fire from the explosion.

Numerous arms wrapped around me, yanking me down to my knees and forcing me into a hunkered down position. The last thing I saw before my head was blocked by the chest of my father was the steel walls of the Vault rising up around us just in time to save us from being incinerated by the shockwave that blasted just over our heads. I felt the wicked heat of it down to my very bones, smelt the indescribable scent of death it carried with it…then it was dark.


	2. Chapter 2: The End

Chapter Two: The End

The ride down in the elevator was unnervingly quiet, everybody huddling together in silence as they absorbed the fact that they had just narrowly avoided death…that _we_ had just narrowly avoided death. The elevator's retractable roof had closed just in time to shield us from the inferno that swept across the world above us. We'd heard it, the sound eerily similar to that of a wave going over your head. Mom had her arms around all three of us, holding us against her in a nearly rib crushing bear hug. Under normal circumstance, we'd probably be trying to weasel ourselves free. This wasn't normal, though, and the feeling of her arm around my shoulders was the most comforting gesture I'd ever been given in my entire life.

There was a small moment of shocked relief as the collective sound of exhales punctuated the humming of the elevator, and we hesitantly rose back to our feet. A quiet sob came from somewhere to our right, nervous laughter from our left, the sound of retching somewhere in front of us, but for the most part it was just silence. I felt Mom's hand on my head, fleeting before moving to Kiefer and then Killian, like she was counting us to make sure we were all there. Dad embraced us from the opposite side, sandwiching us children in between both parents. We didn't much care.

Evenly placed lights along the circular walls of the elevator shaft illuminated the darkness every so often, giving brief flashes of sight that I took advantage of as we descended. The Vault-Tec guards who had jumped on board the last trip down with us hadn't said a word the entire trip, looking pale with a tinge of green sickness. Apparently, we civilians weren't the only ones shaken by what had happened, with how paper thin our escape had been. It was surreal. I looked towards my brothers, unable to see Kiefer's face as he was turned away from me to check out who else had made it on with us. Killian, though, was wide-eyed and shaking ever so slightly. I cautiously reached a hand out, placing it on his wrist. He looked at me quickly before turning his hand and clasping it with mine.

I tried for a reassuring smile, but my lips refused to even move slightly in an upward manner. There was a part of me that wriggled uncomfortably through the shock of what had happened, the part of me that saw my little brother in distress and wanted to do something about it. There wasn't much I _could_ do, though. The dim lighting of the elevator started to brighten as solid metal walls were replaced with a gate-like fence. I winced at the sudden reveal of artificial light, hearing the sound of numerous people just out of sight after the minutes of quiet and shaky breathing. The elevator's platform landed with a slight jolt that sent some of us stumbling on shaky legs.

I had to blink a few times to adjust to the new environment, but when I did I wasn't surprised. It looked like I expected a nuclear fallout shelter to look. Metal and corrugated tubing, giant yellow generators and plenty of warning signs pasted up everywhere. The air smelt sterile, like somebody had spilled bleach on everything and then let it evaporate. It stung my nose, making my eyes water. On the other side of the gate, more people from our neighborhood were waiting in a surprisingly uniform line. I assumed these were the people who were descended into the mountain before us, but I didn't see too many familiar faces. Then again, we Martin's weren't known for being very social creatures. We didn't interact with many of the people in our neighborhood outside of friendly waves and the occasional courteous exchange of pleasantries.

"We did it." Mom whispered raggedly, seeming to deflate as we saw more Vault-Tec representatives filing down the stairs in the opposite direction of the refugees heading up them. "We made it. We're okay. We're okay?"

She looked over at Dad as she repeated herself, and he was quick to nod vigorously in confirmation. He placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment before pulling her into a side-hug, pressing a kiss against her temple and resting his forehead in her hair.

"We're okay." He agreed.

The gate remained firmly shut until the line of refugees decreased significantly, disappearing over the steps of the stairs as they stepped onto the top platform. Clanging metal reverberated loudly in the elevator shaft, echoing upwards before the sound disappeared into the black nothingness above. With the gate receding, the Vault-Tec representatives finally acknowledged us with calmness and assuring faces. A man with a clipboard, a blue Vault-Tec cap on his head, stood by the stairs and dipped his head. Another man, this one dressed in fatigues and wearing a more emotionless mask, watched us with keen eyes.

"Everyone please remain calm. We're going to get you all situated right away and as quickly as possible in your new home, Vault 111: a better future underground. I am Overseer Kline. When I call your names, please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion." The blue-clad greeter instructed, pencil poised in his fingers. "No need to worry folks. You're all in good hands."

 _No need to worry_. I could have laughed at that comment, if I hadn't been using every breath I took to fill my still-tight lungs. I clenched my inhaler in my hand, the plastic slick against my sweaty fingers. I was tempted to take another inhale, but I held myself back.

"Davidson, Anise." The Overseer started, eyes up expectantly only for nobody to step forward. "Davidson, Hank. Davidson, Oscar."

No one moved, and as the greeter struck lines across his list I had the sinking realization that the Davidsons, whoever they were, hadn't made it to the vault in time. This trend continued with depressing frequency, interrupted only when the Eli family scurried for the stairs and the elderly Ivancevich couple hobbled after them. The Joplins, the Jules family, Richard Levi – all somewhere up above and struck off of the vaults roster.

"Martin, Nate." The Overseer finally reached our names, and Dad pulled himself away from us and headed for the stairs.

"Go right on up, sir." The security officer behind the Overseer said.

"I'll wait for the rest of my family." Dad responded coolly.

I looked between my father and the security officer, seeing the latter raise his chin and narrow his eyes. The Overseer, picking up on the faintest hints of an oncoming confrontation, was quick to step in.

"That's alright, Jarvis." The Overseer interrupted amicably. "Can you blame him? Martin, Nora. Martin, Katherine. Martin, Kiefer. Martin, Killian."

He listed the rest of us off in quick succession, doubtlessly wanting to get us out of there before we could start any real problems. We filed off of the platform like ducklings, one after the other and nearly stepping on each other's heels as we hurried up the stairs. Immediately, I realized that this is where the bleach smell had come from. Bright lights illuminated the second story of the entry hall. Survivors were standing single file in line down a narrow walkway, fenced in with a single gate at the very end that would automatically swing open with a soft beep. Tall, strange devices lined the last third of the walkway before the gate. They gave off awful and horrendous horn blares as people walked past them.

"What are those?" I asked quietly, the question meant for my siblings beside me.

"Those are radiation receptors, miss." One of the Vault-Tec employees nearby informed, having overheard me. He was wearing the blue of the company, but a white doctor coat was worn overtop of it. "It's just to check and see if anyone needs to be treated for radiation sickness before the symptoms start."

"But, we were already descending when the bomb aftermath rushed through." Mom interjected, looking worried. "Are you saying that we might not be okay?"

"Of course not, ma'am." The doctor assured, throwing her a small smile. "It's purely precautionary. As you can see, everyone has had to pass through it on the way in. It's more for peace of mind than anything else."

"We're fine, Nora." Dad tried to reassure her as well, taking her hand.

Mom's eyes met his, uncomforted. "What if we're not. The blast was right on top of us, Nate, what if-,"

"It's best not to worry about 'what ifs'," Dad cut her off gently. "No sense in working ourselves up for nothing."

He tilted his head in the direction of myself and my brothers, Mom's eyes following the gesture and taking in all of us. I couldn't imagine what we looked like, but it must have not been satisfactory to her. The worry evaporated like dew on a hot day, a fragile smile taking its place as she took a step towards us. One of her hands went to Kiefer's shoulder, the other to Killian's, and since I was standing between the two she met my eyes first.

"Are you three okay?" She asked.

We blinked, looking at one another unsurely. Were we? Did she mean physically? Emotionally? Was it just a rhetoric question? Kiefer responded first, swallowing thickly to try and dislodge the emotion in his throat.

"We're fine." He nodded, looking at Killian and I until we echoed his sentiment. "What happens now?"

"Now, we do as these fine people say." Dad answered, coming up behind Mom as we continued waiting for the line to move. "We're safe here, you guys. This vault was built for something just like this."

I trusted my father, but my mind was whirring with thoughts quicker than I could process them.

"What about air?" I asked, feeling the cold wind from the vents buffeting my hair. The analytical and often problematic part of my brain kicked on into overdrive, searching desperately for the flaws in the structure, plan, and the theories. "What happens when that runs out? It will, and the air outside isn't good anymore, right? And food. Food isn't infinite, and neither is water. What happens when everything starts running out? What-,"

"Kit, breathe." Dad ordered sternly, interrupting my budding panic attack.

I inhaled sharply, realizing I had actually used up all of my breath in my rant and my lungs were burning. Killian's hand lightly touched my back as I counted silently in my head, trying to regulate my breathing. I hadn't realized I'd closed my eyes until I'd opened them back up and found Dad kneeling in front of me, his hands holding my cold ones. It took me by surprise just how freezing my hands were, and that they were faintly shaking. I hadn't even noticed. I met his blues eyes with my own.

"Kit, I promise you, everything is going to be fine. You, your brothers, Mom and me – we're going to be okay. We're going to stick together and we're going to be okay. Got it?"

I nodded, feeling horribly embarrassed now that I'd calmed down some. I was usually level-headed and cool, the rock of us three siblings, but I was falling apart right now. I supposed it was understandable, but…I gave one more loud exhale before nodding again.

"I'm okay." I said quietly, giving him a thin and pursed smile. "I'm sorry. I'm okay."

The entry process passed surprisingly quick and painless, and before I knew it we were all sitting in a room with no windows and numerous chairs. I assumed it was a holding area, the Vault-Tec employees assuring us that there was just one more step in the decontamination process that they were preparing for us. Until then, we were forced to wait. It wasn't a bad thing, though. It gave us all a moment to catch our breaths and fully digest what had occurred. Now that the adrenaline was abiding, shock was settling in. Pale-blue skin, cold hands, fast pulse, hyperventilating breathing – it was like somebody flicked a switch and we were suddenly all freezing cold and shaking. It was also somewhat relieving to have an explanation to the symptoms I'd been experiencing.

Doctors had been quick to enter the room, lugging with them oxygen tanks and plastic masks and enough blankets to supply an army. Through the tears and the incomprehensible sobbing, the medics somehow managed to calm everyone and treat the obvious problems at hand. The worst cases had IV drips in their arms and their feet propped up in empty chairs. There weren't any true physical injuries to be tended to, so I suppose that was a blessing. My family was considered one of least concern, receiving just the oxygen masks and a few blankets to keep us warm and comfortable as we waited for the final checkpoint in our journey.

Killian was wriggling in the chair to my left, pulling at his vault uniform we'd been given to wear instead of our civilian clothes. They were a horrendous color of blue, garish and headache inducing. When combined with the mustard yellow embellishments, it was just painful to look at. It was a full body suit, the rubber soled shoes even built in to the legs for a smooth and streamlined look. The material was strange, feeling rubbery against my skin like some sort of synthetic leather. It was skintight with just enough give so that it wasn't uncomfortable, but at the same time it was _so_ uncomfortable. I inhaled deeply from the plastic mask that covered my mouth and nose, clutching one corner of the blanket I was sharing with Kiefer to my shoulder.

We'd been waiting for the past half-hour, quietly talking with one another to pass the time. Mom and Dad were conversing softly with the Thorntons, our neighbors across the street. My brothers and I were squished together, heads bent as we struggled to find conversation. Every attempt we made fizzled out under the pressure of our circumstance, but we kept trying to fill the silence. Right now, every time that the talking stopped it just gave us the opportunity to slip back into our heads. The likelihood that everyone topside was dead. All of our friends, our extended family, our dog that had ran away some odd weeks ago…my best friend, Carson…Kiefer's longtime girlfriend, Hannah…

I looked over towards my older brother, seeing his watery eyes and his blank stare directed towards the linoleum floors. I knew that's what he was thinking about. They'd been together four years and he'd been talking about finally getting around to proposing to her. They'd already bought an apartment together and everything, scheduled to move into the complex sometime next month. Shit. I didn't know what to say. Was there anything I really _could_ say? Sorry for your loss? She was a great girl? You two would have been happy together? She really loved you? She'll be missed? All of those were just reminders, repeating everything he was already thinking. I cautiously laid my head on his shoulder, slowly in case he reacted badly to me intruding on his moment. He hardly reacted, not even when the first tear escaped his eye and dropped straight onto the floor he'd been staring at.

"This is our last stop before we begin orientation." The woman leading our group announced, walking sideways to talk to us and lead us forward. "You all are really going to love it here. This is one of our most advanced facilities. Not that the others aren't great, mind you."

Ahead of us, another group of survivors was following a man who was saying almost the exact same thing. I glanced through the viewing windows that lined the hallway, providing a clear view into the identical rooms. Strange pod-looking machines were lined up in each space, grouped together with complicated terminals attached to each one. The woman stopped in front of a large metal door, fingers flying across the keypad and inputting a string of numbers.

"How long do you think that we'll be down here?" Asked Mrs. Abel, clutching her husband's hand.

"Oh, we'll be going over all of that at orientation." The Vault-Tec woman assured, flashing a bright smile.

I frowned. It was a simple question. Unease nipped at me as I realized that they were probably withholding the answer because it wasn't a good one. Perhaps this was going to be a permanent situation. I had no idea how long it took nuclear radiation to clear up, or the kind of damage it did to the environment. When the war had started becoming more vicious and the threat of a nuclear attack was fresh in everyone's fears, I had done research on it in depth, but that felt like so long ago. But as time passed and nothing came of all the fear, people relaxed and continued going about their daily lives. The panic died down soon enough and things went as close to 'back to normal' as they could be, and now I was wishing that I had paid more attention to the topic – or at least committed the information to memory better.

"The level below this one holds the living quarters." The Vault-Tec woman went on to explain, interrupted momentarily by the hissing of hydraulics as the door slide upwards into the ceiling. "You all will be assigned rooms and given a day to settle. Overseer Kline will address you on the morrow about jobs and the plan for the future. Follow me, please."

We entered the room, and I noticed that the pods were much bigger than I had previously anticipated. They were human-sized, pockmarked with tubing and hosing like some sort of alien creature. Small windows were planted in the front of each one, too tall for me to easily look into. Our group stopped as a whole at the top of the stairs, looking down at the woman who was on the ground floor and looking up at us.

"These are our decontamination pods." She explained, gesturing to the egg-containers behind her. "Their job is exactly what it sounds like: to make sure that everyone here is squeaky clean before heading down lower into the vault. Along with decontamination, these machines are used to depressurize your bodies, making the transition of entering deeper into the earth easier on you all. Has anyone ever been deep-sea diving?"

A hand or two poked out from the top of the crowd. The woman smiled at them, nodding.

"I'm sure you understand the importance of this step, then." She said. "Alright, everybody. Please proceed down the stairs in an orderly fashion and fill in pod spaces as you go. That's right, just move right along. Alright sir, now you start the new line over here – don't worry, this process is very short and very safe. Your wife will be fine."

As the line started decreasing, people moving towards their decontamination pods with wariness, Killian and I stepped forward to follow after our parents, but Kiefer stood fast. We turned back and looked at him in confusion before I remembered about our older brother's claustrophobia. I glanced at the pods. They weren't ridiculously tiny, but now that I knew they were made to hold a person, I realized that they weren't exactly roomy either. Judging from the revulsion on Kiefer's face, though, you would have thought they were asking us to step into a coffin. God, he must be going crazy knowing we were…however many miles we were underground.

"Are you going to be able to do this?" Killian asked, picking up on the same realization as I had.

Kiefer shrugged noncommittally. It was at this time that Mom and Dad noticed we weren't right behind them. They stopped and turned, frowning in confusion. I jerked my head towards Kiefer, trying to be as subtle as possible to the problem. He was very sensitive about his claustrophobia, but I suppose that was mine and Killian's fault. We were terrible younger siblings when we were smaller, locking the oldest in closets or pinning him on the bed under his blanket. To be fair, they had been equally awful to me just as awful as Kiefer and I had been to Killian. It wasn't until the last year or so when the three of us had really started to enjoy one another and stop the torment. We always did have great timing.

"You okay?" Dad voiced.

Kiefer nodded, a frustrated look coming over his face as he felt all of our eyes on him. He took a few brave steps forward before Mom stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want you forcing yourself to do this if you think you might pass out, or something." She said seriously. "I'm sure that one of the doctors can offer you a sedative-,"

"I'm fine." Kiefer assured.

"Sweetie-,"

"Is there something I can help with?" The woman in charge asked, suddenly appearing next to us with the same sunny smile she'd been sporting since I'd first laid eyes on her.

"Our oldest is a little bit uncomfortable with small spaces." Dad informed. "How long are we expected to be in them for?"

"Not long at all." The woman reassured, picking up on Kiefer's hesitance and repeating some of the information she'd already said earlier. "Just thirty seconds or so. It's a relatively quick process of decontamination and depressurizing so that we don't have anyone spreading disease through the vault, and to get your lungs acclimated to the oxygen pressure of being so far underground."

Judging from Kiefer's face, none of that was helpful to him. Nonetheless, he nodded and swallowed thickly. Dad clapped his son on the shoulder, mustering a smile.

"Just a few seconds." He cajoled.

"If you would like, I can send for a mild sedative to-,"

"No." Kiefer interrupted. "No, ma'am. I'll be fine."

"Okay. If you're sure. Mom, Dad," The woman said, pointing towards one of the rows of pods. "You two are going to be in this row. Kids, you three are starting the row on the other side. Take your time, folks. We have all day."

With Kiefer still looking like he might bolt for the exit, I decided to lead the way. I shot my parents a small smile and wave before they disappeared from sight. The rubber soles of my boots padded dully on the concrete floor as I made for the last pod on the row, turning to see my brothers following after me. At some point during the room's introduction, the fronts of all of the pods had swung open to display the inner mechanisms. A padded seat in the shape of a body was planted in the middle of the device, half-standing and half-sitting. We were the last ones to be assigned a pod so we were the only ones in the last row.

I reached up, wrapping my hand around one of the metal handholds and bracing my foot on the raised platform of the pod. I cast one last look at my siblings, seeing that Killian had already climbed into his pod and was trying to relax against the padding. Kiefer, on the other hand, was still staring into the bowels of the machine. I reached over, knocking him on the shoulder with my hand to gain his attention. He glanced towards me.

"You remember that carnival we went to when we were younger?" I asked. "The one with the Ferris wheel? With car seats instead of actual ride seats?"

I still remembered looking down and seeing the Pick-R-Up logo stamped onto the metal of the seatbelt as we crested the highest point of the wheel, tottering and wobbling. I'd nearly peed my pants, idiotically pointing out the fact our lives were hanging by the determination of an old truck safety harness. That was probably the most scared I'd ever been up until today. Dangling so high above the ground, waiting to hear the click of the belt's release, plummeting towards the happy children waiting below for their own turn…but even more heart-wrenching, waiting to hear my brothers falling with me.

Kiefer exhaled sharply in a poor excuse of a laugh, nodding his head as he remembered.

"We made it through that." I pointed out.

He nodded again, eyes falling closed as he steeled himself. I hauled myself into the pod at the same time he did, settling against the rather comfortable cushioning and staring straight ahead of me. It seemed that Kiefer and I had been the last to enter our pods, because as soon as we were secure within them there was a loud beep that cracked through the room and the doors hissed down.

"Just relax, everyone." The comforting female voice of the Vault-Tec woman shouted to be heard.

I struggled to do just that, closing my eyes and nestling my head back against the headrest of the seat. I shivered.

 _It's so cold in here._


	3. Chapter 3: The Beginning Again

Chapter Three: The Beginning Again

I couldn't breathe. I blinked my eyes open in a furious panic to see the familiar window of the decontamination pod, but for some ungodly reason it was suddenly frozen over with ice. It dawned on me then that I was also covered in a thin layer of frost, and I was beyond freezing cold. But most importantly, _I still couldn't breathe_. Figuring something was very wrong, I tried to shout in panic but the painfully thin oxygen in the pod wouldn't let me get out more than a gasping squeak. My hands flew to the door in front of me, the metal so cold that it felt like it was actually burning my fingers. The pod gave a shuddering shake at the same time a loud and familiar buzzer went off somewhere on the outside.

 _Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All Vault residents must vacate immediately._

A hiss followed the female automated voice as the door of my pod jerked, the pressure inside releasing as the door lifted towards the sky. I felt a warm breeze of air rush in from the gap at the bottom and fell forward eagerly, nearly smacking my head on the raising door as I did. I was weaker than I thought, hitting the ground hard as my arms gave out when I tried to catch myself. My cheek smacked painfully onto smooth concrete, but the pain barely registered in my head as I sucked in greedy breaths. Unfortunately, the air in the Vault wasn't much better than the air inside the pod, and my lungs flew into a spasm that drove me into a coughing fit.

I coughed so hard that I nearly threw up, but a few empty wretches quickly let me know that I didn't have anything to bring up. Reflexive tears blurred my eyes, tracing burning hot tracks down my cheeks. I grounded my face against the concrete, nails scratching at the floor as I tried to find the strength and purchase to push myself up right. It took me a few moments before I realized that I wasn't the only one lying on the ground struggling to find air. I pulled my head up to look to my right where a similar hacking to my own was drawing my attention. Kiefer was on his hands and knees, in the middle of vomiting as his long hair fell in front of his eyes.

"Kie." I croaked, but the word was hardly audible over his gags so I tried again. "Kie."

He looked at me that time, breathing hard and eyes watering profusely. Relief filled his hazel orbs as he saw me. He reached a hand out towards me before immediately dropping it as he nearly unbalanced himself and fell into the puddled mess underneath him.

"Are y-you okay-y?" He stammered, words distorted from how hard he was shivering.

"Yeah." I confirmed shortly. "I th-ink."

He nodded before abruptly freezing as a second noise besides our ragged breathing met our ears. Simultaneously, we turned towards the only other filled pod on our row whose door hadn't opened. The ice covering the observation window made it nearly impossible to see, but we could just barely make out the movement of a fist banging weakly on the glass. It took me only a second to realize who that fist belonged to. Pain and weakness left me in a flash, replaced with blind panic and a rush of adrenaline. Kiefer and I scrambled to our feet, nearly slipping as the frost having melted off of us formed puddles on the slick stone ground. Kiefer was closest to the controls of the pod and started pushing buttons, pulling levers, anything to try and open it.

I grabbed onto the pods smooth metal frame, fingers searching for a seam to try and wrench it open but finding none. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I gave up and stood on tiptoe to look into the pod, wiping away condensation with the heel of my hand. Killian's face appeared, muted by the latticing of ice, but still visible enough for me to see the horror in his eyes and the blue tint his face was taking as he slouched in his seat, no longer banging on the door as unconsciousness loomed over him.

"Kie, open the door!" I demanded frantically, smacking the pod helplessly.

"I'm trying!" He snapped back, flipping a large red lever numerous times to no effect.

 _Malfunction in Cryopod manual release override. Please contact your supervisor –_

"Shit!" Kiefer croaked. "It isn't working. Is he okay?"

"No, he's not." I informed shakily, falling back to my flat feet and stepping out of the way as Kiefer stumbled over to try and pry it open like I had failed to do before banging fruitlessly on the glass.

I spun in a circle, looking for something to pry it open when I caught sight of a bright red fire extinguisher on the wall nearby. My breath caught in my throat as I darted towards the piece of equipment, slipping and falling heavy against the wall beside it. My hands fumbled in unhooking it from the wall holster, but when I did I almost ended up dropping the damn thing as its weight fell into my hands. Grunting, I lifted the red cylinder and headed back to my brothers.

"Kie!" I snapped, gaining his attention.

His eyes brightened when he saw what I had and my plan, darting the few feet that separated us and snatching it from me. Returning to Killian's pod, he peered into the window and yelled as loud as he could.

"Cover your head!"

I didn't know if Killian could hear him or if he had done as our older brother had asked, but Kiefer didn't waste but another second before hauling the fire extinguisher over his head and heaving it downwards with all of his strength at the window. The sound of shattering glass was eclipsed by Killian's gasping breaths as he found the oxygen his lungs had been so desperately searching for this whole time. Kiefer peered into the pod carefully before using the extinguisher to knock out the jagged glass still clinging to the hole where the window used to be. By the time I got over there, Killian was half draped over Kiefer as the older boy tried dragging him out. I scurried over and threw Killian's free arm over my shoulder, helping Kiefer haul our youngest sibling from the pod.

All three of us fell to the ground as gravity and weak muscles collided, Kiefer and I just barely managing to cushion Killian's fall with our bodies before his head hit the ground. I struggled to slide out from under him, pushing him onto his back on the ground and wincing as his head lolled about without resistance. He was shivering violently, more than Kiefer and I had been, and I looked at my older brother as he crouched beside me. What in the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Why were we…

"I'm gonna go find a blanket." Kiefer told me, standing up and spinning around. "Maybe find someone who-,"

"You can't leave." I hissed, grabbing his wrist and halting him in his tracks. "We don't know what's happening, but something is definitely _fucking_ wrong. We need to stay together."

"I'm not going far." He promised, prying me off of him. "We need to find out what's going on. Just stay here with him, alright?"

"Kie – Kie!" I whisper-shouted, but he backed away and disappeared around the corner of the line of pods.

I cursed under my breath, shaking my head and returning my attention back to Killian. He was still shivering fiercely, but he looked like he'd passed out. The blue tint to his face was gone, but he was pale…so, so pale.

"Hey, Kill. Open your eyes." I ordered with as much strength as I had, shaking him gently at first before increasing the motion when he didn't rouse. "C'mon, man."

I started gently slapping his cheek, but he still didn't give me much reaction, so I hit him harder. At the sting of my fingers on his face, he peeled his eyes apart and sucked in an unsteady breath as he tried to focus on me with much difficulty. Still, just that sent a wave of relief through me. My shoulder slumped, some of the tension slipping away.

"Hey." I greeted, falling onto my butt beside him and grabbing his arms to haul his upper body off of the ground and prop him up in my lap, off of the cold floor. "Do me a favor and stay awake for me, alright?"

"What-," He broke into a coughing fit just like Kiefer and I had before, and I helped him half-roll onto his side just in case he managed to throw up like Kiefer had.

I waited until he calmed down again before talking, answering the question he hadn't gotten to finish.

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "But we're gonna figure it out. Just try and focus on breathing, alright?"

"Kie?"

"He went to find a blanket." I said. "And to see if anyone knows what the hell happened here."

The seconds turned into minutes of Killian and I huddled together on the floor, shivering and listening to the painful silence of the decontamination room. Every so often, there would be a bleat of a horn followed by the robotic intercom voice informing us again about cryogenic malfunctions and what not. I took the opportunity to look around. Everything was nothing like I remembered it being before we got in the pods. It looked like every pipe and vent, every piece of metal or pane of glass, had aged decades. Grime and dust coated everything, water dripped and leaked from busted piping. It didn't make any sense. Nothing did. Kiefer had been gone a long time, and I was starting to worry when I finally heard the sound of someone approaching. Footsteps hurried our way and I looked over my shoulder to see Kiefer holding what looked like an old white lab coat. He barely met my eyes before shrugging at my look, shaking it out and watching as a dust cloud emanated from the fabric.

"It's all I could find in the area." He explained, helping me haul Killian into a sitting position so he could drape the coat over the shivering boy's shoulders.

I secured the lab coat in front of Killian, wrapping my arms around him and trying my best to warm him up while also trying to get some warmth for myself. I'd never been so cold before in my life. It felt like my very bones were trying to thaw out, my organs and muscles burning in a way I've never felt them before. I turned toward Kie, about to tell him to scooch over beside me so that I could lean into him as well. But then I saw the look on his face and my spine went rigid. His eyes had been bloodshot and his face pale when he went to find something to warm Killian, but the look of pure horror and sickness was something that he hadn't had when he'd left. Another wave of cold rushed through me.

"What?" I asked softly, hesitantly.

He didn't answer me right away, dropping from his crouch to fall on his butt beside Killian and I. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but his voice caught in his throat and he ended up smacking his hand across his lips to muffle the strangled cry. That had me thoroughly worried. Kiefer never cried, not even a little bit. Looking down, he composed himself the best he could before meeting my eyes.

"It's them."

It took me a moment to understand what he was getting at.

"Them? Mom and Dad?" I asked softly, eyes darting in the direction Kiefer had gone in search of the blanket.

I don't – can't comprehend how I somehow forgot about the fact that my parents were also down here with us. Looking back on it now, years later, I blame the lapse in memory on adrenaline and fear and the need to make sure my brothers beside me were okay. Our parents' pods had been separated from ours just by chance and therefore not in direct sight…ergo, not in direct interest.

"M-Mom and Dad?" Killian echoed weakly, looking between Kiefer and I as he struggled to keep up with the conversation. "What ab-about Mom and Da-ad? Are they-,"

"Somethings wrong, Kit." Kiefer said, grabbing onto my shoulder tightly to impress the severity of what he was saying, holding my gaze intently. "Something is very, very wrong here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I checked the master terminal." Kiefer said slowly, like he himself was still trying to piece together everything. "We weren't in decontamination pods. We were in Cryo pods. This wasn't a place to be safe. We were just part of a giant science experiment. They – Vault-Tec – were testing the effects of…the terminal said something about long-term suspended animation."

I let that settle in. I was speechless. Killian was even more flabbergasted than I was, still hung up about halfway through Kiefer's explanation.

"Like – like cryogenic sleep shit?" Killian demanded clarification. "Like the bull that happens in movies and books?"

"I…I think so." Kiefer nodded, swallowing thickly. "It doesn't make sense, but at the same time it does – look at us. We look like human popsicles. I just…I don't know why? Why would they…just for science? Just to see what would happen?"

"Was that all on the terminals?" I asked, breath shuttering in my lungs. "Was there more?"

"Life support status." He answered. "For all of the pods. Our three…we were the only live ones. The life support system started failing one by one, and then _something_ happened. All the terminal is saying is that there were catastrophic malfunctions. I guess…since we were the last pods, it was just…luck or some…some _shit_ – I don't know. This is all so fucked."

"Mom and Dad." Killian jumped back to our parents.

"Their p-pods didn't open." Kiefer informed, the catch in his voice from emotion rather than cold.

We all stared at one another, eyes flicking from one sibling to the next. I had started to try and rise to my feet, but Kiefer grabbed my arm before I could slither out from underneath Killian. His hazel eyes met my blue ones, his grip like iron and refusing to let me go.

"Opening them won't…it isn't…it won't help, Kit." He said in a soft and meaningful voice, words dropping even lower as went on to say, "Their status is deceased, like everybody else in here."

"So, they…you mean that…" Killian trembled, eyes wide.

He looked so much younger than seventeen as he sat there looking between Kiefer and I, and I felt like I was emotionally right there with him as I bored my eyes into Kie's. I waited for the punchline, for him to say it was all a joke. They weren't dead. They couldn't be dead. My brother wouldn't lie, though, and definitely not about something like this. Could he be wrong? The terminals could have malfunctioned as well, couldn't they have? Why not?

"Did you see them?" I demanded. "Do you know for sure? For real? Are you sure they're-,"

"Dead?" Killian rasped, sounding like he was in a daze.

Kiefer didn't respond, but he didn't deny it either. A silence enveloped the three of us as we sat on the wet concrete floor. Seconds passed in numb silence before a pain like I never knew existed struck my chest, stealing the breath I had just been given back. I was going to be sick. Mom and Dad…Mom and Dad, oh my God, what…what were we going to do without them? Before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably on that cold concrete floor, loud ugly cries that shook my whole body. I managed to raise a hand to my mouth and try to muffle the sounds, but it wasn't even slightly enough. I was barely coherent but I did notice when Killian's crying joined mine at the same intensity, head buried in my lap and shoulders shaking. Kiefer managed to just barely keep his cool, throwing an arm around me and placing his other hand on Killian's back.


	4. Chapter 4: Moving Forward

Chapter Four: Moving Forward

The hunger pangs in my stomach roused me from an unrestful sleep on the morning of the big day. It had taken so much effort to open my eyes when I would have preferred to stay unconscious. In my dreams, everything was surprisingly okay. I didn't dream of bombs or fire or frozen corpses. I dreamt about showing up to school naked or finding myself unprepared in front of a crowd of people. Just your typical, not-really-a-problem bad dreams that made me cringe in my sleep. Horrible, but absolutely trivial compared to the feelings that simply waking up brought me these days. It was my reality where the true nightmare was now, one that I couldn't wake up from no matter how hard I tried.

Three days. It had been three days since my brothers and I had broken out of our pods and learned the fate of our family and neighbors. Three days since we were left to wonder just how twisted Vault-Tec could actually have been and, even then, it was just the barest of information we could scrape off of the terminal in the janitor's office. It had been three days since we'd been forced into the horrible realization that we had no idea what the date was, where all of the Vault-Tec workers were, or what the hell was waiting for us topside. We didn't know what we were supposed to do, what happened in the vault, or why everything was empty save for the frozen bodies in the cryopods. What we did know? We had to leave and try to make it to the surface. Why? Because, in three days, the three of us had all but gnawed our way through the metal walls of the vault. Anything remotely edible, we'd eaten.

There had been very little in ways of actual food – a box of InstaMash, a box of macaroni and cheese, some questionable potted meat, and one single can of Cram. In the fridge, we found some Nuka-Cola and a bottle of milk that had gone so far past simply 'expired' that it's appearance was indescribable, let alone its smell. It looked like a whole new ecosystem had taken over the icebox, mixtures of mold and rot that had us slamming the door closed nearly as soon as we'd opened it. Between the three of us, the food had disappeared quickly. We sated ourselves on chewing gum as long as possible after that, finding a few intact packs in the office drawer of the janitor closet where we'd found the terminal with limited information. It was just pure luck that the pipes still ran water clean and cold, flowing out of the faucets and the water fountain in the hall. Sustenance aside, even the air was becoming less and less potable.

We'd only dared travel as far as the recreation room and adjoining sleeping quarters since thawing out, too scared to enter the other rooms containing the Cryopods and terrified to enter the room just beyond that seemed to contain giant roaches. I shuddered thinking about it, swallowing back my revulsion. As if my existence couldn't be more painful, there just had to be _giant damn roaches_. The rec. room was rather plain. Part of it was a kitchen, the main space of the room taken up by a long metal picnic-style bench, a tiny alcove next to the doorway of the dorm area revealing a small bathroom, and a terminal and desk set up in the corner. The sleeping area had been a blessing. Actual _beds_ for us to curl up in rather than the hard floor. None of them had had sheets or pillows or blankets, but it was a relief nonetheless to lay on a springy mattress and not cold concrete floors. That being said, the time of resting and coping had past. It was time to move and escape the concrete tomb we'd found ourselves in.

We'd reaped all we could from our limited space, and survival meant moving forward even if we were terrified of what lay ahead. So, we ate a meager breakfast of a single stick of chewing gum, the flavored saliva we swallowed making us hungrier than we had been before, and we gathered anything that could be used as a weapon and headed for the only door left that offered potential escape. The three of us stood in front of the closed door, staring at the access button with hesitation. It was only our hope that the door would open when we pushed it, and not that the automated voice would come over the speakers and inform us that the only possible way left for us was malfunctioned. Kiefer had found himself some sort of security baton, Killian a saucepan from underneath the sink in the kitchen, and I had managed to twist the rusted leg off of one of the metal folding chairs in the rec. room. They were medieval, but they'd have to do.

"Hit it." I encouraged, staring at the button on the wall.

Kiefer nodded, whether in answer to me or to psych himself up, I wasn't sure. He tapped it with his fist and with a hiss of hydraulics, the door flew into the ceiling. I shivered, not entirely confident if I was glad or not. We'd hardly stepped through the doorway before we were all jumping backwards in a panic as a bolt of electricity slammed into the floor too close for comfort, filling the room with the smell of ozone and making the hair on our bodies stand up. My heart spasmed painfully in my chest and I nearly tripped over the slightly raised threshold in my retreat.

"Jesus." Kiefer rasped.

It was easy to see where the problem was coming from. In the depression of the room, four generators sat in pools of water. The source of the liquid was from the pipes hanging overhead, droplets of water falling from the leaky tubes. The conduits on top of the machines seemed to have short-circuited and were now malfunctioning, sending bolts and streaks of electricity to jump from it and blacken the concrete ground around it. Sparks showered down like rain accompanying lightning, dousing in the puddles. Popping, crackling, hissing – the deathly silence from before was gone. We looked across the generator floor towards the door on the other side of the room.

"You think it's lethal?" Killian asked.

No sooner than he had asked, I was making a noise of shock as a scurrying brown shape darted between the generators heading straight for us with a screech that I was 72% sure roaches could _not_ make. I stumbled back into the glass window but it was unnecessary as a white streak of light zapped the giant roach and sent it exploding in a mess of fluids and body parts. I shuddered in revulsion, closing my eyes against the mess and frowning. My throat gave a little quiver as I dry-heaved, but to my relief nothing came back up. Nobody moved for a few long seconds.

"I'm thinking it's lethal." Kiefer concluded dryly. "Let's stick to the wall."

And we did, going single file around the raised catwalk and keeping our left shoulders glued to the wall. Popping and sizzling sounds kept us company, keeping our footsteps from sounding too lonely as we slunk forward. We were nearly halfway across the walkway when another insect came scurrying out from behind some boxes, bigger than a housecat and hissing like a snake. Once again, I jumped backwards and flinched as the roach jumped out of seemingly nowhere, flying right towards my face on massive wings with it's six grotesque legs outreached and –

A dying squeal and a splattering thud interrupted its attack as Kiefer stepped in front of me and swung the security baton in his hands at the creature. Greenish blood showered out of it as it flew sideways and hit the wall, falling lifelessly to the ground. I gagged again, smacking a hand across my mouth and feeling my body wrack with shakes as I repressed the urge to vomit up my gum. Thank God Kiefer had been on our high school's varsity baseball team before he'd graduated a few years previous. He may be a bit rusty, but his aim and vigor hadn't deteriorated with the lack of practice.

"Jesus," I croaked, trying to ignore him as he frantically shook the baton to dislodge the bits of bug that had stuck to the metal. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We continued on cautiously, eyeing the overturned boxes and trolleys of supplies with new hesitation. Hesitation quickly turned to shock as we finally reached the next door we needed to access, staring at what was lying in front of it. The vault suit was like a beacon amongst the dingy grays of everything else. The bright blue, the horrid yellow, the alabaster white of a skull topping it all off – the suit wasn't empty. A skeleton was sprawled out inside of it, the leathery rubber draped over it like a blanket. I could see the lumps under the fabric where bones laid; the sharp points of pelvic and shoulder bones, the bumpy line of a crooked spine. Its head laid to the side and displayed a grinning skull and empty eye sockets. Flesh and muscle had long since been eaten or decomposed away.

As the seconds ticked on without anybody making a move, I decided to take one for the team. I inhaled slowly and cautiously stepped forward, crouching low and reaching towards the badge clipped onto the sleeve of the suit. My fingers brushed the smooth finger bones and I struggled to keep my distress internal, shakily unclipping the badge and jumping back to my feet. I scrubbed my tainted hand against my suit as if I could wipe off the skeleton germs, the other holding the ID tag up so I could read it in the dim light. A picture of what used to have been the woman of the skeleton was included. Brown haired, blue eyed, big smile and freckles all over her face. Pretty.

"Mikayla Johnson, Vault-Tec Advisor, Class B Clearance." I recited off. I turned to look at my brothers. "I guess we know what happened to Vault-Tec."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that information, though. So, everyone who had taken refuge in the vault was dead as far as we could tell. Both those who had led the experiment as well as those who had been experimented on, save for my brothers and me. I tossed the ID back onto the ground, heard it clatter on the stone before reaching forward and pressing the next red button. Hissing hydraulics preceded the soft swoosh of the door retreating into the ceiling. Unfortunately, no sooner than the door disappeared, I was faced with two more roaches at the top of a short staircase. I was so close to smashing the button closed once more and hiding behind my brothers, but a part of me knew that if I couldn't handle this…well, I probably wasn't going to do well up top.

The first one scurried down the steps towards me, its hairy legs moving incredibly fast. I winced when I drove my chair leg down in a simple downward swing, feeling the crunch of the exoskeleton against the metal before hitting the solid concrete that was underneath. Despite being horrifying to look at they seemed to die relatively easily with blunt force trauma, which was ironic as before the nuclear fallout they'd been nearly impossible to kill by just simply smashing them. The second roach was swiftly taken down by Killian who more or less threw the heavy saucepan at the insect as it readied to fly. Kiefer finished it off as it tried to crawl away, legs bent and wings crumpled. I swayed as I pulled the chair leg out of the sticky mess, leaning against the wall as a wave of black suddenly tinged my vision. I breathed through the sudden nausea, closing my eyes until the faintness abated.

We really needed to get out of here. A hand touched my shoulder and I brushed it off with my own, clearing my throat and straightening back up.

"I'm okay." I breathed, taking the initiative to moving forward and climbing the short stairs.

It was a very brief hallway, the end marked by another sliding door and nothing else. Fingers crossed, I smacked my hand against the release button and braced myself for an error message. But, lo and behold, it disappeared into the ceiling without a hitch. I couldn't keep in my sigh of relief, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Every door we came across had me tensing for disappointment, and every time they whooshed open it felt like a brief shot of calm shooting through my veins.

It felt like an eternity, walking through identical highways and dodging roach after roach. There was a lot of backtracking, numerous doors blocking our way forward and forcing us to retrace our steps to find other routes. With everything looking the exact same, more than a few short bursts of arguments had occurred as we debated whether or not we were going in a circle or not. To everyone's relief, we finally found ourselves in what looked like the Overseer's office. It was more spacious than the other single rooms had been, a massive wraparound desk positioned against a wall and a strange, out of place, security fence.

We all moved fluidly through the room, taking stock of everything that remained after the Vault-Tec downfall. We had a system by now, Kiefer searching for the next door while Killian and I search for anything useful. The doctor's jacket I had adorned from when we first came out of cryosleep had its pockets stuffed with bobby pins and even a few packs of cigarettes – I didn't smoke, asthma and all, and neither did my brothers. That didn't mean that they couldn't maybe be useful in the long run. Killian moved onto one of the adjoining rooms, shouting back to Kiefer and me that it looked like the Overseer's private quarters. We both shouted out our own brief confirmations. I busied myself with scoping out the desk in the room while Kiefer moved from container to container.

The first thing that caught my eye were the Stimpacks, three of them sitting in a shelf on the interior of the desk. I grabbed them up like they were made of gold, sticking them carefully in the pocket of my lab coat. I didn't know what was lying in wait outside, but it couldn't be a bad idea to have first aid with us. I suppose it was just luck that there were three…let's hope three was our lucky number. Being so enthralled by the find, it took me a few seconds to notice the skeleton lying on an overturned chair even though it was literally right next to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I caught sight of it, leaping backwards into the desk and cursing under my breath as miscellaneous clutter was knocked off onto the ground in a crash.

"You okay?" Kiefer asked, having managed a way to get into the security fence.

It was hard to make out his face through the latticing of metal, but I threw up a hand to let him know I wasn't any worse for wear.

"I'm fine." I gritted out, shaking off my nerves and turning my back on the polished white bones.

Childishly, I kept having these flash images of the skeleton rising up from the floor and pouncing on me, all sharp bones and empty eye sockets. I shuddered, craning my head down to peek into one of the desk cubbies. I blinked.

"I found a gun." I informed, carefully reaching inside the compartment and extracting the pistol I'd found.

It was relatively small in size but had some real weight to it. The wooden grip was smooth against my fingers, the metal icy cold. I carefully pulled back on the slide to make sure that there wasn't a bullet in the barrel. Our father had been in the army, so it was only natural that he had taught us about weapons and their uses – and dangers. I'd never been a fan of guns, but that didn't mean I didn't know how to handle one. I just wasn't necessarily very good at it. The barrel proved empty and I set it down on the desk as Kiefer and Killian came closer, both drawn in by my discovery. As Kiefer strolled up, he placed a nearly identical gun opposite of mine, as well as a box of ammo that rattled as he moved it.

"Me too." He said needlessly.

We all sort of stood there for a few seconds, eyeing one another surreptitiously. Two guns, three of us, and nobody seemed in a hurry to step forward and claim one as theirs. I sucked on my teeth, wincing when I felt the fuzzy feeling gracing them. There wasn't any toothbrushes or toothpaste down here, so I'd tried to do my best at just scrubbing my teeth with a piece of cloth and water from the sink. Needless to say, it wasn't efficient. Four out of five dentists definitely would _not_ recommend it.

"I guess…you and me." Kiefer said finally, hazel eyes locking onto my blue.

I was about to protest when I thought of Killian having one of those guns in his hands. A chill raced through me, images assaulting my mind of horrible situations that could occur to my little brother. I nodded in agreement after a moment, picking up the one that I'd found and ejecting the magazine. Mine was full, but Kiefer had to take a minute to reload his from the box of .10mm ammo he'd found. As he worked, I leaned against the desk and held the gun in both my hands, staring at it. It didn't look all that impressive, but it was capable of killing someone. The item seemed heavier against my palms than it had been before that thought.

"Alright." Kiefer sighed. "I guess…did we go through everything?"

Killian and I nodded, showing off what we'd found and stowing everything we could in my coat pockets. It was nothing impressive, at all. Mostly just some more gum and cigarettes. _Lots_ of cigarettes. We moved towards the only door in the room, and I hit the release button only for a horn bleat to crackle out over the intercom.

" _Overseer authorization required."_

"Shit." Kiefer muttered, and I myself felt a small flare of panic in my chest.

"The terminal." Killian prompted, turning around and heading back to the desk.

Of course. Kiefer and I shadowed him, stepping over the skeleton and hovering just behind him as he leaned down so he could see the screen. Killian wiped his palm across the screen, taking off an alarmingly thick layer of dust and hitting one of the keys to boot up the screen. Green letters filtered onto the previously black background. A list of options popped up and Killian immediately headed down for the last one with the command prompt [Open Evacuation Tunnel], but something caught my eye and had me halting him.

"Wait." I said sharply, pointing at the command prompt I wanted him to click on instead. "This one."

[VAULT 111 OVERSEER INSTRUCTIONS]

Killian inhaled slowly before tapping the key, and we waited as text filtered onto the screen. I had to reread it twice before I actually was able to understand what the text file was saying. Emotions warred inside of me, ranging from feeling violently ill to excruciating sadness. Moreover, I felt angry. So, so angry. All of these people in this vault had put their trust and lives, the lives of their families, into Vault-Tec's hands. Monsters, the whole lot of them. I glanced down at the skeleton on the ground, suddenly wanting nothing more than to smash my foot into that awful grinning skull and watch the bone shatter into dust. Kiefer pulled away from Killian and I, moving a few feet away and leaning against the desk with crossed arms as he stared into the void.

"It was all just a giant experiment?" Killian asked, sounding like he couldn't believe it. "None of it was real?"

Nobody answered him, because we didn't really know, did we? If anything, reading the entry only brought on more questions. How many people knew what Vault 111's real purpose was? Was the project intended to be successful, an actual option on continuing life after the nuclear fallout? Was everyone dying just an accident? Something had obviously gone catastrophically wrong in the vault. All of the maintenance workers died and there was nobody left to take care of the life support machines hooked up to everyone's cryopods. As the generators shut down one by one, so did the pods that were attached to them. It had been a stroke of luck that the row my siblings and I had been in had been hooked up to one of the surviving generators – for all we knew, the last surviving one.

"Let's go." Kiefer said, pushing away from the desk with a flourish of movement and heading towards the door. "Kill, open it."

Killian looked towards me. I wasn't sure if it was for confirmation or he just wanted to see on my face what I was thinking about all of this, but I nodded anyways. He clicked down until he hovered over the [Open Evacuation Tunnel] command and hit the ENTER key. An all too familiar hissing, and the door was sliding up towards the ceiling. I placed my hand on Killian's shoulder, urging him in front of me and guiding him forward as we followed after Kiefer who had already disappeared through the doorway. We found ourselves in another hallway, and then at another door, and then in another hallway, and then at another door. As we went on and on, I wasn't entirely sure that we weren't just going in a hapless circle, or even going deeper into the vault. We didn't have any real way of knowing if we were going in the right direction.

As we opened the last door, though, doubts were dissipated as our eyes fell onto a familiar place. It was the room that all of the refugees had been ushered through after we'd just barely escaped the blast. It looked completely different, though. Most of the lights were off, bathing the space in darkness except for the emergency light glowing right above a command platform in front of us. Everything that had once been painfully white had been dulled by grime and dust. The air smelt stale and sweet, the aroma of a room that hadn't been opened in a long time. Compared to the other rooms we'd been in, this one was almost cavernous. High ceilings made our footsteps reverberate back at us as we carefully proceeded inwards.

Kiefer and I spun around with our weapons high at the sound of metal clashing against the floor behind us, but it just turned out that Killian had tripped over an overturned chair. The both of us shot our younger brother irritated looks and he muttered an apology, carefully extracting himself from the metal legs and being more mindful of where he stepped as we continued in.

"Watch for roaches." Kiefer said softly, his voice sounding much too loud even though he'd practically whispered it.

We moved through carefully, fanning out and curiously peeking into boxes. There wasn't anything worth taking. It was just files and files and more files. The pages were unreadable anyways. Some had water damage, some had just started to fall apart over time, and some looked like they'd been eaten off of. I righted an overturned chair near a desk, the subtle movement sending up a plume of dust to smack me in the face. I immediately held my breath, turning around and walking a few feet away before waving my hand in front of my face. The last thing I wanted was to trigger an asthma attack. Kiefer kindly took my place, pulling drawers out on the desk and shuffling through junk on the desk top.

I scanned for Killian, finding him on the retracted metal walkway bridge that couldn't go anywhere thanks to the giant gear-shaped vault door that was currently closed and in the way. Exhaling sharply out my nose to try and dislodge any remaining dust, I climbed the two steps that took me onto the lit platform and cast my eyes over the command board. There weren't many options, but my eye was drawn to the large orange button with the text PRESS above it. The only problem was that it was covered by a sturdy glass cover that wouldn't lift when I tried pulling at its seam and wouldn't break even when I slammed the sharp end of my chair leg onto it. I heaved an irritated breath, eyeing the other buttons and pressing a few. Nothing happened.

I was about to turn and usher my siblings over when my foot hit something solid. I backed up a pace dropped to a crouch, mindful to not step on the skeleton underneath me. My foot had kicked the item underneath the command board, so I had to reach under into the dark and grope about until my fingers touch…other fingers. I gnashed my teeth together at the feeling of bones, keeping my horrified surprise to a mere grunt and briefly retracting my hand before composing myself. I reached for it again and whimpered as I felt along the skeleton hand that must have separated from the body beside me. My determination paid off as I found myself feeling smooth glass and padded leather. I hooked it out and brought the item into the light, white bones falling away from the device and clattering to the grated floor.

It was a Pip-Boy, and one of the new ones at that. I let out a soft noise of disbelief, clipping it onto my left arm and tightening the buckles until it fit my arm right. I had serious doubts as I pressed the power button, but lo and behold. I rubbed my thumb across the grimy screen until I could see the grinning mascot giving me the thumbs up.

"Unbelievable." I huffed out in a laugh.

"What?"

Kiefer and Killian made their way towards me at my word, and I rose back to my feet to show them the device.

"What's this?" Killian asked, reaching towards it and picking up a strange cylinder object dangling from the Pip-Boy with a cord.

I took it from him, glancing at the end of it and the strange five-prong pattern that it had inside. It looked like a key…I glanced at the command board. No way. I pushed the key into the outlet-looking lock next to the covered button and my Pip-Boy made a short beeping noise before the home screen flashed over to another one.

[VAULT DOOR REMOTE ACCESS: READY]

The cover flipped open and the button was bared to the world. I pulled the key out and placed it back into the port on my Pip-Boy.

"Good work." Kiefer complimented.

"Yeah." Killian agreed.

We stared at the button.

"You push it." I said to either one of them, taking a step back.

Killian stepped back next, leaving Kiefer standing on the platform alone. He glanced at us both in surprise before realizing that he had been volunteered. He swore under his breath but nonetheless carefully pressed the button. A strong jet of steam smacked us in the face, expelled from the giant motor hanging over the walkway as it roared to life. I smacked my hands over my ears as screeching metal filled the space, the vibrations from moving gears and shifting hinges traveling up my legs all the way to my teeth. The darkness of the room was gone, oscillating orange lights spinning madly in a way that warned caution.

" _Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please stand back."_

Some sort of large, misshapen hunk of metal that I had assumed was welded into place suddenly shot along a hidden track in the high ceiling, moving towards the closed vault door with high velocity before slowing down at the last second. It slotted into the gear-shaped divot in the door like a key before locking into place with a quick spin. Sparks flew from the door as the hunk of metal backed away, tugging the barrier with it and freeing it from the wall. We all gasped in pain as a too bright white light assaulted our eyes once the door was rolled out of the way. Finally, the walkway extended to connect the entry room with the elevator and everything fell still.

I warily dropped my hands, eyeing my brothers unsurely. They returned the look and Kiefer cleared his throat, nodding his head.

"We've come this far." He reasoned, making the first move and heading towards the walkway.

"This might be the last stop, though." Killian pointed out grimly, following suit.

I brought up the rear silently, heart racing and a tight feeling of nausea balling up in my abdomen. Our footsteps clanged loudly on the metal grated walkway and down the stairs before fading to a duller thud when we stopped on the concrete floor outside the gated off elevator shaft. We could see there was no elevator pad through the chain-link, but a loud buzzing hum was reverberated from way up the shaft. We could only assume that it was the pad descending and that left us with nothing else to do but to wait.

"How long do you think its been?" I asked quietly.

It was a vague question, but Killian caught on to what I was asking.

"Since we…you know, were first frozen?" He clarified, face screwing up as if the very words tasted foul in his mouth.

"Yeah." I nodded, raising my voice to be heard above the sound of scraping metal as the elevator inched closer and the grinding grew louder.

"Is it a bet or just a question?" Kiefer questioned, a small smile on his lips that could either be from amusement or nervousness.

I mimicked him. The three of us were betting fools. I think that all siblings were, though. How else were you supposed to get out of chores you didn't want to do, or get quick money because you were supposed to go out to the movies unexpectedly, or to accrue a small fortune of IOUs to be used at a later date?

"Bet." I confirmed.

"A hundred years." Killian guessed first.

"A hundred and fifty." I countered.

"A hundred and fifty-one." Kiefer added in.

"Reward?" Killian prompted.

"Bragging rights." Kiefer suggested before his face fell some. "…I guess it's all we really have, isn't it?"

And, just like that, the brief moment of lightheartedness faded and we were left in melancholy once again. Thankfully, the elevator decided then to finally scrape into view. I winced and jumped with a pained shout as one of the sparks from the elevator grinding against the chute descended quickly and fell on the exposed skin of my neck. Kiefer's hand wrapped around my upper arm and jerked me a few steps backwards, out of the immediate range of flying embers.

"Step back." He cautioned, pulling Killian with us as well.

The ground shook slightly as the elevator pad touched down, a moment of silence following before the chain-link fence creaked upwards. We hesitantly headed forward. I peered up into the inky blackness above us. There were no lights to guide us this time, just the nothingness overhead. Our footsteps clanged loudly on the metal of the elevator, echoing lonesomely up the shaft.

" _Enjoy your return to the surface. And thank you for choosing Vault-Tec."_

The chain fence slammed down without prompting, bouncing once with the velocity of its fall before securing shut with an ominous click. My heart spasmed painfully at the finality in the noise before starting to race, realizing that this was it. We had reached the end of our journey and stay in the Vault. A hum gradually sprung to life, and with shrieking metal we were shuttling upwards slowly and jerkily. The fast-then-slow-then-fast-then-slow pace kept throwing us off balance, so we ended up falling into crouches and bracing ourselves on each other. In the pitch black, I made sure to keep one hand on each of them. In turn, I could feel their own hands clenched in the material of my suit at my shoulders. We didn't say anything but, even if we did, I was sure that we wouldn't have heard each other.

I had thought the ride down into the vault had been long, but the ride back up seemed as if it was taking an eternity. It was clear from the sound and movement of the elevator that the mechanisms propelling it were laboring. I tried to recall if any of the Vault-Tec employees had mentioned how far underground the vault was. I couldn't recall a number, but the knowledge that it was _far_ down was enough to have my imagining us plummeting all the way down and smashing against the concrete floor at the bottom. I pictured the giant roach I'd killed; the way its green guts had sprayed everywhere from the hit of my chair leg. Would we spatter to? Would the impact kill us? It would have to, but what if it didn't? What –

A new noise joined the discordant cacophony. More hissing hydraulics, the sound of locks disengaging, a rumble that was muted but powerful. Then the darkness of the elevator was replaced by a white light, one thousand times more intense than the simple emergency lights that had been down below. I was blinded.


	5. Chapter 5: Everything's Lost

**A/N: I apologize if it seems that the story is coming along slow so far. In the game, everything happens so fast and it doesn't delve too far into the internal thought process of the character. Since the story is in first person I feel that the shock and coping, while time consuming, is important and would make the story seem empty without it. Things will start to pick up soon as they all come to grips with how the world is now, as well as dealing with everything they've lost. But first, they have to get there.**

Chapter Five: Everything's Lost

You build an image up in your head of how you imagine something will be. You spend hours, days even, constructing this image in your mind. I tried to conjure up the worst I could imagine the world being. I pictured devastation and ruin, death and decay. I envisioned the dust of what used to be humanity and barren wastelands where the impact blast of the bomb had completely leveled everything down to the bare dirt. I worked hard on the hellish landscape I painted in my head and came up with something that I believed even Hieronymus Bosch would be in envy of. Some nights, in the Vault when I couldn't sleep, I delved so into detail into the likeness of post-nuclear Earth that I almost felt like I was there. For some reason, I couldn't stop picturing that the air would feel like battery acid on my skin – raising bloody blisters and corroding me down to the bone on the outside while unseeingly eating me inside as well.

For all of the garish nightmares I'd envisioned, the real thing didn't hold a candle to what laid in front of us as the elevator pad stopped moving. My breath rushed out of my lungs in a shocked sigh and refused to re-enter for a few very long seconds. It wasn't worse than I'd imagined, not even close, but somehow that almost _did_ make it worse. I had spent all of this time trying to prepare myself for an outcome that wasn't actually going to happen. As I stood there taking in everything I could, I found myself back at square one with no plan.

It was quiet. Much too quiet. There wasn't the tweeting of songbirds, no chirping crickets, no rustling leaves or grass. The hum of civilization was absent. Dead silence remained. If it hadn't been for the sound of our ragged breaths, I would have thought I'd somehow gone deaf. The brightness of the sun blinded me at first, days of flickering artificial light having not done any favors to my corneas. My eyes were quick to adjust, but I almost wished they hadn't. A white haze hung in the air, but it didn't cover up the destruction that laid below. Up on the hill, I was easily able to see our neighborhood…what was left of it. Even from a distance, I could see that it was in ruins. This certainly wasn't the wasteland I'd pictured, but seeing the rotting remains of what once was…it sent a wave of cold washing through me despite the hot sun, starting in my toes and flooding upwards.

The sky was a vibrant blue, the only real color laid out in front of us while everything else was shades of grey and sun-bleached hues. The faintest whisper of a breeze sent my short babyhairs tickling my skin. Although the wind blew, there was nothing for it to catch on. The trees around us, the few remaining, were bare and skeletal. The bark had been long stripped away, leaving just the pale grey and dead insides. The ground just outside of the metal ring of the vault elevator was bare of vegetation. Some dry and brittle grass, baked by the sun and dying, was spotted up here and there but for the most part it was just the dusty dirt. A particularly hard breeze would whip up the loose topsoil and send it up in a cloud before whisking it away on the wind. The air smelt like stagnation. An attic left alone for years that had just been opened. Smelling the inside of an old car. The murky, sweet stench that rose up from still ponds on hot days.

"Is…is this…it?" Killian broke the silence first, his voice whispering from my left. "Everything's gone."

"We don't know that." Kiefer all but snapped, desperate for himself to be right and for there to be _something_ waiting for us.

My eyes burned as I waited for the voice of my parents to tell me that we'd be okay. I waited for them to gather us up and look us in the eye and tell us in their firm, sure voices that they'd take care of us. They'd protect us and make sure nothing bad happened to us. They'd do what parents did, in every species across the globe – they'd protect their young to their last breath. I waited and I waited and I _waited_ for the responsibility of surviving in a world that looked like it couldn't even support itself to be lifted off of my shaking shoulders even just a fraction. But it never came. And, I realized, it never would. Never again.

"Kit?"

Killian's hesitant voice reached my ears, but it sounded muffled, like I was hearing him from underwater. I hadn't realized I was falling until my little brother had darted forward and tried to catch me. My deadweight half-drug him to the ground as well before Kiefer snagged a hold of my arm and helped lower me to sit on the elevator pad. By that point I was struggling to sob quietly and breathe at the same time, the effort pulling ugly wracking noises from my throat. I felt the weight of my brothers' eyes on me as they watched me for a few seconds, unsure as to what they should do. Again, this was when they would usually look for our parents to console me.

"Just breathe, Kit." Kiefer said slowly, crouching next to me and pulling my hair off of my neck where it had fallen out of its sorry-excuse for a braid.

The cold had abated as soon as I was off my feet and it was then that I realized how close I'd been to passing out. Salty liquid fell past my lips and I raised a shaky hand to wipe at the tears falling from my eyes. It as an act of futility as every tear I scrubbed away was replaced by five more. It was all rushing over me now that we were topside, the fear and paralyzing lack of knowledge – like a housecat that was let outside for the first time. A nuclear warhead had been dropped on Massachusetts, probably the rest of the world, too. Millions were dead. I didn't have enough knowledge on nuclear warfare to know what else was changed. Was there even food? Unradiated water? How long did it take radiation to dissipate? Were we being exposed to it right now? How were we supposed to survive? Did we make it out of those cryopods just to watch each other succumb to starvation, dehydration, and exposure? How in God's name was _**I**_ supposed to keep us alive?

"Breathe, Kit." Kiefer repeated more firmly, pressing on my back to force me to lean over onto my legs and drop my head between my knees.

I struggled to do as he said, arms wrapping around my thighs and nails biting into the leathery-rubbery suit I wore. I couldn't believe any of this was happening. While we were still in the vault, it had almost seemed like a dream compared to the reality I felt now. Surrounded by metal and concrete walls, I now realized that even though I'd been scared out of my mind, I had felt safer inside than I did out here. Sitting hunched over on this elevator pad, the image of what was left of the world burned into my retinas and painted on the backs of my eyelids…it was all real. Mom and Dad lying dead in those tubes miles below ground, the giant roaches, Vault-Tec, and now this nuclear-ravaged landscape that had once been home. It was too much.

Kiefer and Killian were kind enough to simply sit by me and let me regain the ability to breathe. It wasn't until I calmed down enough to lift my head that I realized that they also seemed to be struggling to cope. Kiefer had his elbows on his knees and his head hanging between his shoulders, hands clasped together so tight that his knuckles were white. Killian had curled into a small ball, one hand plastered over the back of his head and his body rocking with small soothing motions. At the sight of their own grief, I felt some of mine abate from necessity. We couldn't all be given the luxury of losing our senses at the same time. I'm not sure how long we sat there trying to reel ourselves back to sanity, but the sun had moved quite a bit since the moment I initially collapsed. The shadows became long and reaching, and the light on the ground was more orange than yellow.

Kiefer lifted his head and sniffed loudly, drawing my attention away from the dirt spiraling in front of us from the wind. Killian and I turned to look at him. His eyes were red tinged, but his cheeks were dry.

"It's getting late." He said in a slightly shaky voice, only hiccupping once. "We should head – head down. It's gonna be dark soon."

And we didn't have a light source. I was fairly certain that the powerlines didn't make it past the blast. Besides, it wasn't like there was anyone around to run the powerplants. I nodded, wiping my tacky face one more time and taking a few deep and steadying breaths. Kiefer helped me to my feet and I helped Killian to his. Kiefer led the way. We moved as one entity, hardly straying more than a foot from one another as we stepped off the elevator. A plume of dust rose with each footstep we took, and I recalled the footage from the first spacewalk. The astronauts' feet had stirred up clouds of moondust just like ours were. It was painful how similar the Earth and the moon were now: lifeless rocks.

We traced our way unsteadily down the hill, stumbling every now and then. We were weak with hunger, shock, and poor sleep. It was strange; it seemed like less than a week ago we had madly sprinted up this very same hill, shoving through a throng of screaming people. It was empty now. The fence that had once barred people out now lay broken and rusted, the gate swinging slightly in the wind by a single hinge. As we crossed the barrier, we tried to ignore the plentiful skeletons that dotted the ground. Some were still dressed in their clothes, like in the Vault, but others were dismembered and scattered about. Bones were splintered or broken, sticking out of the dirt like tiny tombstones. This was all that remained of my neighbors, my school friends, and the soldiers who had ushered us to safety. I wondered if one of the skeletons clad in those dusty dresses were Mandy Hobart. I made sure to step over them.

We crossed the bridge that arched over the tiny stream and then we were standing on asphalt. Sanctuary Hills…its name seemed cruel now. We didn't pause, cautiously entering the cul-de-sac neighborhood with our weapons clenched in our hands. While I was trying to keep an eye out for threats (praying to God that the giant roaches inside the Vault were a onetime occurrence), I couldn't stop raking my eyes over the homes of our neighbors – absolutely demolished. The rooves were barely existent anymore, shingles ripped off and ceilings sporting so many holes that it might as well have been entirely blown away. Wall paneling and windows were also victim to the bomb, ripped out of the structures' walls and lying in pieces on the ground halfway buried under dirt and debris. Trash flooded the concrete street like water in a river.

Out in the open, our footsteps were practically nonexistent. It was strange after constantly hearing our own movements for days inside the Vault. It's like we were ghosts, gliding over the dead world looking for something that no longer existed. But, we were…sort of. A sudden metallic creak much too close for comfort had me jumping and grabbing Killian's arm, ready to yank him away from the noise before I realized with chagrin that it was simply the sound of groaning support beams. In fact, the neighborhood felt like it was producing the same noise from seemingly everywhere, like an archaic symphony. I muttered an apology to my younger brother and released him, only slightly jumping the next time the horrific sound sprouted nearby.

I knew we were approaching our house, but the closer we got the more focused I became on the ground underfoot. It had been the home that I'd grown up in. Birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens, laughs, tears, arguments, fights, jokes…they'd all been made in the small three-bedroom home. I didn't think I'd be prepared to see it decimated like all the others around us. I stopped when my brothers did, and hesitantly I raised my head. As I had feared, it was just as wrecked as the others, but somehow that god-awful orange door had made it through. I was actually surprised when I managed to softly snort before letting out a weak laugh.

"That damn door." I whispered, glancing at my siblings beside me.

They understood why I was laughing. That door had been a topic of debate in our household ever since we were children. Every year, every holiday, when it came time to decorate and prep for mischief or merriment, the infamous argument would somehow manage to pop up. It was like an annual event; the World Series with more yelling and less baseball. Mom hated the tangerine-tinted door, but Dad thought it gave character to the otherwise cookie cutter house.

"None of our neighbors have a door like this!" Dad would proudly exclaim, knocking on the heavy metal entrance with his knuckles.

"Don't be proud of that, Nate." Mom would snap back, arms crossed while she glared sullenly at her husband and the bane of her existence. "Take the hint and take it down."

One nuclear fallout later, and it still stood solid while the rest of the house was in shambles. Was it a sign? A coincidence? Well, I wasn't sure either way. But, it had brought a weak smile to me and my siblings after all of this, so I appreciated it nonetheless. Once the weak laughter died down and we continued awkwardly standing beside our mailbox, we realized we needed to bite the bullet. We had to keep moving forward, one step at a time. One step. Keep moving. Kiefer started up the sidewalk, ready to take the plunge and enter the house when we all froze.

"As I live and breathe!" An accented voice originated from somewhere behind us, startling all three and causing us to spin around. "Children!"

"Oh my God." I gasped, my chest feeling just a hint lighter and my heart starting to race a bit faster.

Codsworth. Never in a million years did I ever think that our Handybot would survive the bombs dropping. And yet, it made sense. He _ran_ off of nuclear power, for Christ's sake. And here he came speeding towards us, his steel armor dinged and a little rusted. He was emerging from behind the house of our neighbors across the street, knocking over a garbage can and somehow tripping over a line of hedges despite the fact he had no legs. The metal of his body clunked noisily against the ground, making me wince with sympathy even though I knew he couldn't feel pain. He was quick to right himself, zooming towards us so fast that I was sure that he was going to slam right into us.

"Codsworth!" Killian called in disbelief.

"Children!" Codsworth repeated, thankfully pulling up just in time as to not flatten us. His arms spun madly, and his visual receptors expanded and shrunk as he took us in. "It's you! It's really, really you!"

If he was capable of throwing his metal arms around us in a hug without hurting us, I'm sure he would have. Instead, he simply continued emotionally speaking while hovering back and forth erratically as if he couldn't contain his joy.

"Oh, I can't believe this! You're here! You're really here!" He cried. "My motion sensors picked up three humanoid life forms, but I never imagined it would be you all! Oh, joy!"

"Codsworth, how are you still here?" I voiced my disbelief.

"Miss Katherine! Surely you don't think a little radiation could deter the pride of General Atomics International?" He boasted.

"Codsworth, I don't think I can express how happy we are to see you." Kiefer admitted, a small smile on his lips and his face minutely less tense than it had been a moment ago.

"We thought that we'd have to be alone." Killian confirmed.

"Nonsense!" Codsworth assured kindly. "You have each other, you have me, and of course, Mum and Sir! Which…where…are they?"

And, just like that, the elation at finding Codsworth was snuffed out. The roller coaster of emotions we were constantly going through was leaving me dizzy and faintly sick. Our smiles dropped, and we glanced at one another surreptitiously, wondering who was going to break the news.

"They're gone, Codsworth." Kiefer stepped up for us, informing the Handybot about the unfortunate truth.

"Gone? That's ridiculous! They'd never go anywhere and not take you three!"

I wanted to shake my head at his obliviousness, but I didn't. It wasn't his fault. I could hardly believe it myself, and I'd seen their…I cleared my throat.

"No, they…they're dead." I filled in, the word tasting bitter on my tongue and causing bile to rise in my throat as a result.

"Miss, young sir…these things you're saying…these horrible things…" Codsworth seemed confused and appalled.

"Something went wrong in the vault." Killian explained quietly. "They didn't make it."

Codsworth was silent, only the soft hum of his jet propulsion and the faint whirring of his visual receptors indicating he was actually still on. The three of us glanced at each other unsurely, not used to the Handybot not talking a mile a minute at any given time. Had we broken him? That would be cruel. He survived a nuclear bomb dropping nearly on top of him only to collapse at our bad news.

"Hunger-induced paranoia." Codsworth finally deduced, sounding as if he'd found the answer to a difficult problem. "That explains it. Not eating for two hundred years will do that to you. Shall I whip you children up something to eat?"

It didn't register at first. The thought of food in my = stomach was enticing and all-encompassing in my head. But then, at the sound of Killian's choked gasp, I replayed his sentence again in my head. I blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Well, that couldn't be right. When the three of us had jokingly made the bet before heading up in the elevator, we'd been nervously sarcastic. We'd just been throwing out numbers that had seemed outlandish, and now we were standing here hearing Codsworth say that our mocking calculations were actually a century off.

"Two-hundred years?" Kiefer croaked. "That's…that's not possible."

"A little over two-hundred-ten, actually, young sir. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the old chronometer."

Oh, no. The cold feeling was coming back again. I bent my knees a bit and focused on my breathing, determined not to collapse this time. I glanced up at everything around us. It wasn't just nuclear fallout that had corroded everything, but the very passage of time itself. _Two hundred years_. My brain just couldn't comprehend that. So, that made the date…2287. But…only four days ago, it had been 2077, and now…my head pounded with an agonizing headache. I rubbed at my temples with the heels of my hands.

"You all must be famished." Codsworth went on cheerfully, zooming behind us and ushering us towards the house. "I'll whip something up. We're out of fresh fruits and veggies, I'm afraid, but we still have plenty of preservative-rich food. I recall you all had an affinity for Blamco Mac'N'Cheese. I'll see about finding some unbroken bowls. Most of our dinnerware didn't make it, unfortunately."

We let him herd us up the sidewalk, Kiefer opening the door and pushing it inwards. It creaked horrendously on its hinges. I stepped across the threshold and felt faint once again. Our home was destroyed, but at the same time it wasn't as bad off as I'd seen glancing through the windows of our neighbors' homes. The floors were ruined, blasted down to the linoleum, but it was clear from leaves and debris. Furniture was upright and arranged close enough to how they'd been when we'd ran from the house that day. The walls were scorched, black streak marks forever burned into the once-white-paint, but dirt wasn't smudged on it either.

I glanced to my left, at the bookshelf where we'd kept everything of importance to our family. Most of it was gone. The trophies, the medals, and all the other shiny things. Looters, maybe? Who knew. I crouched down, picking up an overturned picture frame from the bottom shelf and flipping it right-side up. A thick layer of dust and grime covered the cracked glass, but the sleeve of my jumpsuit easily wiped it away. It was Mom's certification to practice law in the Commonwealth. I tried not to dwell to much on it, instead placing it back where it had been – propping it up against the trifold American flag that Dad had received for his service. Codsworth had obviously tried to restore the place, but there were only so many things that his robotic appendages could do.

"Ah, I've done my best to keep the place tidy over the centuries, but do you have any idea how hard it is to scrub nuclear fallout out of a carpet?" Codsworth called from the kitchen where he was rummaging through out cabinets. "Hopefully Mum doesn't hold it against me."

I swallowed thickly but decided not to otherwise react to his last sentence. Maybe he was in denial, but he'd have to work it out in his own way. I couldn't stomach continually repeating the reality. _Mom and Dad are gone. Mom and Dad aren't coming back. Mom and Dad are dead. Mom and Dad are dead. Mom and Dad are –_ Glancing at my brothers, I let them know non-verbally to let the Handybot's refusal to realize reality lie as it was. They nodded. We'd pull at that string later.

Night fell, and I could only feel one emotion: terror. We crowded into the bathroom, it being the only decent-sized room with no windows or panels to go missing. It was horrifically dark, only faint spots of moonlight filtering in through the roof. We'd stolen cushions from the couch and chairs in the living room, throwing them on the floor so we could curl up somewhat comfortably. Unfortunately, sleep was something that I didn't think we'd be getting tonight. The wind had picked up when the sun went down, and the noise it made as it filtered through all of the gnarled metal in the neighborhood was bone chilling. Whistles, groans, creaks, even the occasional crash as the weight of rubble gave in on itself and collapsed further.

It didn't help that I was curled up on my side facing the door. My blurring eyes and exhaustion kept making me think I saw little hands curling around the doorframe or glowing eyes peering in at us from the darkness. Every time my mind played the trick on me, I'd jolt out of my near-sleep and bolt upright to glare at the doorway. My grip would tighten on the gun I had laying next to me on the cushions, finger itching to flick off the safety. _Just in case_ , I would tell myself, _just in case you need it quick._ Of course, there was nothing there. Just my imagination.

It wasn't just the fear of unseen assailants attacking me that kept me awake, but the responsibility of looking after my family as well. We'd debated about setting up a watch system, but Codsworth had assured us that he'd sense if anything approached that had the potential of being hostile, even in rest mode. He was in that state at that moment, his metal body taking up the entirety of the shower and his jet propulsion off, arms curled under himself as he rested on the tiled floor. I looked upwards where Killian was dozing by my head. I had one arm stretched above me, pressing lightly against his back. It was more for me than for him. It calmed me ever so slightly to feel his steady breathing, knowing he was there and okay. Likewise, my foot would occasionally knock against the legs of my older brother as he leaned against the wall in the corner. He was about as rested as I was. I'd occasionally here the beginnings of a snore coming from him before the noise would actually jerk him awake.

The thing about the darkness and no way to know the time (without rousing Codsworth to ask) is that the progression of said time was completely unrecordable. One moment bled into the next with little difference, so I can't say when it was that I fell into an uneasy and shallow sleep. I also had no way to know how long I'd been dozing when I felt Killian stir, rolling away from me and to his knees. Sleepiness abandoned me immediately. My head jerked up, eyes blinking rapidly to make out his form in the dark.

"What's wrong?" I rasped.

"Nothings wrong." He assured, sounding like he was trying to be quiet as he pushed to his feet.

"What's going on?" Kiefer asked, sounding like he's just been roused from a nap as well.

"Nothing." Killian said once again.

"Is something wrong, children?" Codsworth had powered on as we'd spoken, our voices having apparently roused him.

Killian sighed in irritation, muttering under his breath. When it became apparent that there was no danger or immediate cause for concern, I felt myself relax just a tad.

"Everything's fine, Codsworth." I assured, suddenly wide awake much to my displeasure. I pushed up until I was sitting cross-legged on the cushion, rubbing my gritty eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's about 4:30 in the morning, Miss." Codsworth informed.

The sun would be up soon. I wasn't sure if I was happy about that or not. I was thankful the dark would be gone, but the likelihood was that my chance of being allowed a few decent hours of shuteye would depart as well. We had a lot to do in the morning, namely trying to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do next. Killian once more moved towards the open doorway, and I was about to ask where he was going when the Handybot beat me to it.

"Where are you off to, Master Killian?" Codsworth asked, sounding nervous.

"Just outside for a second." My younger brother informed vaguely.

"Do you need something? Could you possibly wait till the day time, then we can all go fetch it together!"

"No, I don't…no, I just have to…pee." Killian admitted.

"You shouldn't go out there alone." Kiefer said sensibly, pushing to his feet with a groan of discomfort. "I'll go with you."

"Oh…the buddy system. Sensible, Master Kiefer." Codsworth agreed. "Come along, Miss Katherine."

I raised an eyebrow even though I knew that nobody could see it. "I'm good, Codsworth. I'll just wait in here."

Kiefer and Killian were already moving towards the door, struggling not to trip in the dim light as they spoke quietly with one another. Codsworth made a noise of discontent.

"But, if you split up, how am I supposed to keep an eye on you three at the same time?"

"You don't need to keep an eye on us." Kiefer assured. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

"But, Master Kiefer, if you and Master Killian go and I follow you, who will look out for Miss Katherine?"

"I think she'll be fine for a minute or two."

"But, Master Kie-,"

"I'm honestly about to burst with urine." Killian said with urgency.

"Then move, dude." Kiefer urged, sounding irritated.

"I think we should all stay together!" Codsworth suddenly exclaimed, his voice coming out high and uneven.

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in surprise, the outburst unexpected and out of place. If I wasn't mistaken, it almost sounded like he was on the verge of tears. If a robot had a face, I could picture him sniffing and his bottom lip wobbling unsteadily. He was very upset about something.

"Codsworth, are you okay?" I asked after a long awkward moment.

He seemed to take a moment to try and compose himself before failing and breaking off into a trembling

"I…I…Oh, Miss Katherine!" Codsworth sobbed, sinking lower than usual towards the ground. "It's been just horrible! Two centuries with just myself…the bombs came and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for certain all of you were…dead! I've been _so alone_! No one to talk to for two hundred years, no good company, just the miscreants who'd come stumbling through every now and then – and all they ever did was use me for _target practice_!"

He wailed the final words, making me grimace with sympathy. My mind had snagged on the part about there being other humans, but I decided I could ask about that later. Instead, I put myself in Codsworth's position. He'd been out here alone, save for being attacked, for going on two centuries. Of course, he wouldn't want to be left alone, not even for a moment. I couldn't even begin to process the damage that could do on someone's mental state. No wonder he'd been so overjoyed to see us. Although part of me realized that it was silly to do so, I felt guilty for not considering to fully ensure Codsworth was alright. I had never even asked.

"Codsworth," I started slowly, "We aren't going anywhere."

"Yeah, man." Killian added after a moment. "You're all we have left."

Codsworth sniffled, his voice coming out wetly, "Do you truly mean it?"

"Of course." Kiefer answered. "We promise. But, you don't have to hover over us. We can still go to the bathroom by ourselves, at the very least."

"Oh, of…of course, young sir." Codsworth stuttered, sounding almost embarrassed as he recovered from his brief moment of panic. "Of course, I do apologize. I…I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again."

"That's okay." I assured, somehow managing a smile. "We get it."

There was a brief lull of silence. My curiosity pulsed, still holding onto the bit of information that there were others out here somewhere. We were already awake…I figured I might as well ask.

"Codsworth…can you tell us what happened?"


	6. Chapter 6: Persevere or Perish

Chapter 6: Persevere or Perish

 **Three Weeks Later…**

 _Keep running, just keep running, just keep running, just keep running –_

 _I didn't know where I was going, or what was chasing me. I heard the sounds of growling and heavy footsteps behind me, tree branches breaking in the wake of my pursuers charge. Twigs slapped at my face and arms, leaving stinging trails on my skin. Sweat soaked me, plastering my clothes to my body. My feet felt much too heavy, like I was running in slow motion even though I was putting everything I had into moving. My lungs were tight. Getting tighter with every breath. My own wheezes nearly drowned out the sound of the snarls behind me. Wheeze. Snarl. Branch crack. It was getting closer. Wheeze. Snarl. Hot breath on the back of my neck. I couldn't breathe –_

Something soft and heavy smacked me in the face, pulling me from sleep. I gasped difficultly through the thick material, bolting upright and yanking it off of me in one quick motion. Codsworth's stories over the past twenty-two days had haunted my dreams, and now numerous scenarios raced through my sleep-fuddled brain as I was unceremoniously drug to consciousness. Were we being attacked? Was it raiders, come to pillage and take what we had? Ghouls, irradiated and feral, piling on top of me with furious aggression? Some sort of unknown, nuclear-mutated creature that would be discovered for the first time only when it was found feasting on my corpse? As I finally pulled all of the material away from my face, I automatically found my eyes darting to the doorway when I found the room to be bare of anyone else. It was empty. That being said, I could hear retreating footsteps and Killian's voice heading down the hallway as he called to me.

"Get up, dingus! Kie needs help down at the Millers' place." My younger brother shouted.

The erratic beating of my heart slowed down to an unpleasant and sluggish tempo, thudding in my head as the aftereffects of panic-induced awakening slowly reared their heads. As I breathed heavily out of my mouth, I took notice of the tightness in my lungs that turned out wasn't just my slumbering imagination. I fumbled my hand under my pillow, grabbing my inhaler and popping the cap before wrapping my chapped lips around the nozzle. Plastic-tinged air rushed over my tongue and moments later I felt myself breathing easier. I glanced down at the small contraption as I recapped it, eyeing the number dial on the back of it. 156 doses left. No cause for concern just yet, but eventually I'd have to fine more or some alternative. The air was shit. Dust was everywhere.

Irritation was quickly winning out against the panic as I came to grips that I wasn't about to be slaughtered in the bathroom of my house, or that I wasn't going to drown in air. Temptation bid me to scramble to my feet and catch up to Killian instead, so I could smack him upside the head, but I decided to remain hunched over on my bed as I came to terms with being awake. I wiped a hand across my sweaty face, looking down at my lap at whatever Killian had thrown at me. It was clothing, that much was clear and exciting to me. I was itching – literally and figuratively – to get out of the dirty jeans and t-shirt that I'd managed to scrounge up shortly after our first day back home. It was surprising at how little clothing was left in the settlement. I suppose anything salvageable had been looted by survivors, and even the unwearable scraps of cloth had most likely been utilized one way or another as well.

I had been honestly surprised, and grateful, to find the too-big clothing with the ripped knees and the moth-eaten holes in them. Buried in dust, crumpled, and stained with unidentifiable substances; they'd been nearly hidden underneath a broken-down dresser. At the time, I'd been so appreciative to peel off the tacky blue Vault-suit that I'd started stripping right then and there in the guestroom of Mr. Zapata's house…may he rest in peace. We were pretty certain that the withered skeleton huddled behind the refrigerator in his kitchen was in fact him. Of course, there was no way to be sure. Not anymore. Kiefer had scratched a cross on the wooden doorframe of the building, a reminder that there was yet another person we'd have to bury when we found the time to.

I squeezed the thick bundle of clothing in my hands. The dark green material was coarse against my fingers, a large zipper running up the middle of it and a nametag in the corner – Ted. It was a mechanic's uniform, and I'd bet money that it had belonged to Teddy Miller who lived three doors down from us. He was a good neighbor; he never mixed his recyclables and trash, always kept his lawn well maintained, and he was always willing to offer help with around-the-house things free of charge to anyone who asked. I connected the dots, realizing that Kiefer had likely found it in the rubble and tossed it to Killian to deliver to me. How thoughtful. I squeezed my eyes closed, leaning back against the wall behind me and sighing. Hand-me-downs from dead people…was it wrong? Was it considered stealing? Did it really matter anymore? It wasn't like they needed it, and I most certainly could make use of it, but…

"No." I cut myself off with a groan, pushing up off of my couch-cushion mattress and standing up so that ragged and musty carpet I was using as a blanket piled around my feet. "No debate on ethics and morality today, not this earlier. Definitely not before breakfast."

On the thought of breakfast…food was running short. Codsworth had acquired quite the stockpile of canned and boxed goods, but even though he didn't eat there was still three of us who did. Even rationing down to the bare minimum of what we likely needed, we were blowing through the stash much too quickly. Sooner or later we'd have to have the conversation about what we'd do when we ran out. I doubted anything could actually grow anymore, and we Martin's had never been known for our green thumbs regardless. The only plant that Mom had managed to keep alive was a fern she'd received from one of her won cases. For years, she'd watered it and ensured it was always in a nice and sunny spot. For years. Many years. And it wasn't until those many years had passed that she discovered that the resilient plant was actually plastic. She'd been heartbroken.

I shook my head as my thoughts started to trail into nostalgic territory. Food was the concern, the potential of starving. Since we couldn't grow, we'd have to find. That likely meant scavenging. The problem was, we'd picked through everything in the nearby area. We'd even scurried down to the old trailer park that resided on the other side of the Vault hill. We'd had to fight our way through giant mosquitos that had risen from the retention pond like demons from hell, the buzzing of their rapid-moving wings deafening. What had been worse, nightmarish actually, was that they'd shot rancid old blood at us when we started smacking them out of the air with our melee weapons. Killian had gotten a face full before we'd realized that they had a range attack, and we'd panicked when he'd immediately informed us that he couldn't see. We rushed back to our settlement and did our best to flush his eyes, but in the end we had to administer one of our three Stimpaks to regenerate the damaged nerves and blood vessels that the putrid blood had ruptured. The next time we visited the trailer park, we did so with pilfered welding goggles securely in place.

We'd talked about heading down to Red Rocket, but it was a good fifteen-minute trip on foot. Besides, it was along the main road that connected Sanctuary with Lexington. Chances were that anything good had been taken; gasoline, snacks, and the other miscellaneous items alike. Not to mention that it seemed a good place for an ambush, according to Kiefer. I found myself agreeing with him. I'd seen enough movies and read enough books to figure the same thing. It was a little disconcerting to realize that the best understanding we could scrape together about this new world was from what society had once labeled science fiction. It wasn't so much fiction, anymore.

I debated whether or not I could skip the meal that morning and just go straight to helping, but my stomach quickly derailed that plan by letting out a truly monstrous growl. Good intentions were well and good, but they couldn't trump basic human needs. I grimaced, pushing my palm hard against my abdomen as if I could muffle the noise.

"Yeah." I grumbled, yanking off my jeans and stepping into the unzipped uniform. "You'll get something. I can't promise you'll like it, but you'll get something."

I never thought the day would come where I'd say "no" to a Fancy Lads Snack Cake or good ol' mac'n'cheese, but it came rather quickly after too many consecutive meals. The uniform was predictably too big but after tying the sleeves around my waist securely and tucking all the excess into the boots I'd laced on my feet, it was manageable. I kicked my carpet-blanket onto my nest, stepping over Killian's and Kiefer's and making my way to the kitchen. I followed the noise of Codsworth's humming, so reminiscent of his carefree days before the Drop. The cheeriness was almost annoying, but I felt too guilty to ask him to stop. His world had become exponentially better when we'd stepped into it, but my world was still bitter and shriveled. It was hard for me to not be…jealous? His ability to see the positivity…to look on the bright side...I couldn't say I wished I could do the same, but it sounded horrible to wish that he'd feel the same aching depression I did. He'd recovered well from his abandonment crisis, as far as I could tell. I could only hope that time would heal mine.

"Good morning, Miss Katherine!" He greeted, hovering on the other side of the kitchen's island. "Would you care for some lunch?"

"Lunch?" I frowned. "What time is it?"

"Twelve-twenty-three, I believe. Your brothers just had theirs."

My frown deepened as I realized I had horribly overslept. Even after three weeks, our sleeping schedules were awful. Codsworth was usually the one to stay awake all night and keep watch; it was incredibly helpful to have someone apart of our group who didn't need sleep to function. That didn't mean that we slept soundly through the night, though. When sunup was official, we were usually exhaustedly pulling ourselves up to get to work with less than a handful of hours of rest. As if sensing my confusion, Codsworth spoke again as he placed a bowl of vibrantly yellow noodles in front of me.

"Master Kiefer suggested that you needed rest. According to him, you didn't have a very restful night."

And I hadn't. I just hadn't been aware that Kiefer had been aware of that. My dreams were plagued with nightmares, the kind that threw me awake in the dead of night with panicked breaths if I was lucky. If I wasn't, I remained trapped in whatever horrific hallucination my mind conjured all the way until morning. Last night had been the latter occurrence. And yet, I was already forgetting the specifics. But the fear I felt? The fear remained poignant. I pulled a rusted stool out from under the lip of the counter, carefully sitting on it. I wasn't sure it wouldn't just collapse under my weight and leave me with a rusty stool leg shoved up my –

"He shouldn't have done that." I complained dully, picking up a stained spoon and poking at the Blamco product.

It was sort of impressive that Codsworth had managed to scrape the rust and time corrosion off of the utensil. It was nice being able to stick a spoon in your mouth and not worry that you're going to get tetanus or something. That was something we were all very concerned about with all of the rust and jagged, sharp metal abound. The first aid kit that Dad had kept in the bathroom cabinet was long gone, so even the most basic of medicinal care had been stripped away from us. Cuts and scrapes that in the past might have been minor were suddenly exponentially more dangerous without the proper materials to disinfect and wrap them. We were down only to two Stimpaks as well, so being careful was increasingly important.

"He's looking out for you, Miss Katherine, don't hold it against him."

"Hey, Codsworth." I prompted before he could zoom away, likely to do laundry at the small stream that blocked the way back to the Vault. "You don't have to call me that. Things…they're different now, you know? It just seems weird."

"What would you prefer, Miss Katherine?"

"Kit." I answered. "Just Kit."

"As you wish, Just Kit."

Just as I was about to open my mouth and correct him, he gave a laugh and headed for the door that once led to the covered garage.

"A joke, only a joke." He assured breezily.

I blinked after him in surprise, trying to remember if he'd had a sense of humor before. I'm sure he did, but his emotions had seemed emptier. Definitely more of an artificial recording than true feelings. He seemed so much more real now. Blinking rapidly to try and clear the sleep grit from my eyes, I shoveled the mac'n'cheese into my mouth and tried to swallow if without tasting. I was so unbelievably tired of the same four meals over and over again. There had been a point in my life when I had naively thought that when I was an adult living on my own in my own house, making my own decisions, I'd eat junk like Blamco and Fancy Lad for every meal. I'd kill for a salad, now. Although my stomach growled, I was almost equally repulsed by the mere sight of the neon noodles. I placed my bowl in the sink when I was done and pushed the stool back under the counter with my foot before heading towards the open front door.

I stepped over the threshold and into the sunlight. A few clouds were out today, bright white and definitely not indicative of rain. It hadn't stormed yet, thankfully. Codsworth had warned us about the deadly green hue the sky would take, the sound of metallic thunder reverberating in the air. Radiation storms, pouring down harmful levels of rads rather than rain. We were working on trying to form some kind of shelter more reliable than the holey roofs and gaping walls of the buildings around us. That's why we'd been picking through the trash of our neighboring houses: we were scavenging for parts now rather than clothing, medicine, and food. It was still today, not a breeze at all. The motionlessness of the world was eerie, but it reduced the ambient noises that Sanctuary Hill usually produced. I was easily able to pinpoint the direction of my siblings from the groaning of metal and sharp clanging of hammers.

I glanced around the neighborhood, pulling my greasy hair backwards into an excruciatingly tight bun. I had a day of work ahead of me, and the most irritating thing to happen was being in the middle of lifting a steel beam and suddenly have a strand of your hair suck itself up your nose or burrow painfully into the corner of your eye. The sound of shifting metal and soft voices was coming from down at the cul-de-sac part of the settlement, where the giant oak tree now stood dead and skeletal but still impressive. I started down the sidewalk even though it would have been quicker to cut across and walk the road. Mom hated when we walked in the road, even when it was empty and quiet. She'd always been terrified of one of us getting struck by a car. In fact, we weren't even allowed to pass a specific point on our driveway when we would play outside and ride our bikes. She'd lay a broom down on the cracked concrete as a referential barrier for us youngsters and going too close was sure to get you a scolding. Going past it, you were asking for a smack on the rear. That never stopped us, though. We made a game out of it, seeing who could travel furthest past the point without getting caught. It was always Killian. He had always been far too quick.

Thinking of my little brother, I saw him standing outside the Miller's place with his hands on his hips and his face red with exertion. Once more out of habit, I found myself looking both ways as I stepped onto the road and headed towards him. He caught my eye as I approached, jerking his head upwards in greeting. I returned the gesture, moving to stand next to him and staring up at the same spot he was. Two crows sat perched amongst the skeletal branches, gripping the twigs with small clawed feet and peering down at us with keen, intelligent dark eyes.

"Mom would have liked it like this." Killian thought out loud.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about that." I agreed, smiling at the coincidence. "She was a freak like that."

Our mother had always preferred dead trees to live ones. If asked about it, she wouldn't be able to tell you why, but she always said that there was a certain beauty to something that had once been so vibrant and full of life now standing brittle and ashen – like its own gravestone. My smile fell.

"Morning."

Killian and I turned at Kiefer's voice, watching him exit the Miller's place with a few crudely rolled bolts of chicken wire tucked under his arm.

"Afternoon." I corrected. "What are we doing?"

"Well, we're done here." Kiefer dropped the chicken wire down next to the mailbox, a few more miscellaneous metals and woods piled up there and apparently of some potential use. "I was actually just thinking about what we were going to do with all of the bodies we'd found in the houses and along the hill trail."

It was something we would have had to talk about sooner. We were practically living in the middle of a cemetery with all of the skeletons lying about.

"About where to bury them?" I clarified.

"Yeah." He nodded, wiping his eyebrow on the shoulder of his shirt. "And I was thinking back behind the Stagner's house. It's unsalvageable and we'll be better of tearing it down for scrap, but they have a rather flat parcel of land right there in the back."

Killian and I nodded, knowing what he was talking about.

"How many graves are we up to?" Killian asked. "Will they all fit?"

"Well…I mean, they're just bones, right?" Kiefer admitted. "We don't need a wide hole, just a deep one. I think we'll be able to fit them all."

"How many?" I prompted again.

"We're up to twelve."

Twelve. "Including those up by the fence?"

"Twelve, plus an unknown amount. I don't even know how we'd begin to tell who they are, or which bones belonged to who. The ones by the fence might just end up in a mass-grave, as awful as that sounds." Kiefer admitted.

"It's more respectful then leaving them scattered out there." Killian pointed out.

"Yeah." I agreed.

I almost asked. I almost said the words out loud, but I choked on them at the last second. _What about Mom and Dad_? I might have almost said them, but I certainly wasn't ready to. They weren't ready to hear them, either. For now, their remains were safe in the vault, perfectly preserved. That would have to be enough for now. Maybe forever. It wasn't the time or place to decide.

I looked towards the mostly sturdy framework of the Miller's house standing tall behind Kiefer who had sunk into a crouch to somewhat rest. "What can I help with?"

"Right." Kiefer sighed, pushing back to his feet from off of the ground and wiping his dirty hands on his pants. "I wanted to try and get those dressers out of here. They're in decent condition, good enough that we can make them work."

"For what clothes?" Killian questioned. "The three of us wouldn't even be able to fill up one drawer."

Between all of us, we had a ridiculously small rotation of clothes.

"There are a few more neighborhoods close by we can scrounge through." Kiefer assured. "They're a bit farther then we've gone, but I think it might be worth the trouble. We need to find some. Maintain some sort of hygiene. The last thing we need is someone getting sick or an infection or something."

With no doctors and no medicine…yeah, that would be pretty bad. We moved towards the Miller's place, filing in one by one.

"You found any mattresses yet?" I asked as we passed the threshold.

"Ha." Killian snorted. "That's a good one."


	7. Chapter 7: What We've Lost

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long, and sorry that this chapter is likely lacking considering how long I've been away. Being an adult is harder than I thought it was. There isn't much time for writing anymore.**

Chapter 7: What We've Lost

In a crisis, the most important thing is to keep your mind focused on the things you have to do. Keep moving forward. Don't look back. The mistake we made was that we took a moment for ourselves. We took a moment to breathe. We took a moment to remember and, in that moment, we also were forced to come to terms with what exactly it was we had all lost. We looked back. Up to that point, our immediate focus had been on surviving and making sure each other survived as well. There hadn't been time for us to be left alone with our own thoughts; the concern was about food, water, shelter, and what we needed to do to make sure that we had each of them in sustainable quantity. The things we had to do and had to have because we were survivors and even though we were scared of existing when ninety-nine percent of life on earth had perished, we were even more scared of giving up and perishing ourselves. But we were so tired. Long days, hard work, and short nightmare-rampant nights took its toll on all of us. We deserved a breather. We were okay on food, we had walls and a roof, and water was just a stone's throw away. Codsworth's superior sensors would detect a threat long before we ourselves could. And what harm could a day-off do? That was our mistake.

The day had started out rather normal; we woke up feeling more tired than we had when we'd gone to sleep, and we checked to make sure that each other were still alive. We took a few minutes to just listen to the outside world, listening for voices or footsteps or growls that might indicate an intruder. But when all we could hear was Codsworth's jet propulsion blowing from somewhere in the living area of the house, we figured it was safe to dress in our day clothes and face the day. We didn't often talk much in the mornings, as none of us had been morning-people even before the End. These days, there wasn't much to talk about that we all weren't collectively aware of. We all knew about the locked root cellar on the Ivancevich's property we'd yet to successful break into. We had all been briefed on the swarm of bloodbugs that kept popping up north of us in the old trailer park. We all knew that Kiefer had busted his tailbone the day previous after tripping backwards over a broken-off muffler hidden in the long grass. There wasn't much we could just chitchat about.

We dressed in silence, the popping of our joints and exhaustion-filled groans filling the absence of conversation. We silently lamented the greasy feeling of our hair and faces, the itchiness of our skin (whether from dirt or mites, we didn't know), and swallowed distastefully at the flavor of our mouths. Scrubbing at our teeth with water and cloth really didn't get the job done the same way that a toothbrush and toothpaste did. We headed together in a shuffling herd to the kitchen to see what Codsworth had whipped up for us for breakfast, muttering a croaky good morning to the HandyBot who had greeted us just as cheerfully and kindly as he had since we'd known him.

The gold-hue of morning light beamed in through the imperfect ceiling we'd jig-sawed together, dappling the ground and walls. We took our places at the counter, each of us taking our seats that we'd had assigned since we were all little children. It was just habit. It was as we were sitting at the bar, munching on stale Sugar Bombs and digging crust from the corners of our eyes, that Killian had voiced something we'd all been feeling but had been insecure in mentioning out loud.

"I'm tired." My youngest brother had said, his chin propped in his hand and his voice sounding like he'd gargled with fishing hooks.

Kiefer and I shared a look, pausing in our chewing. I took the moment to look at his face – really look. The shadows under his eyes were like bruises, dark and swollen. He was growing a beard, perhaps for the first time in his life. He'd always kept his facial growth shaved off. Glancing towards Killian, I noticed the same bruise-like shadows in addition to a heaviness to his head, like it was too hard to hold up. I, myself, well…I was exhausted. The effort of moving and the effort of putting a simple string of thoughts together had me ready to collapse. Even my eyelids were straining under the effort of fatigue to stay lifted, my eyes crossing every so often despite how hard I was trying to keep them centered and focused. I'd been going over the checklist of what we had to do that day in my head almost as soon as I'd woken up, planning my day. We'd been moving constantly ever since we were unfrozen; scavenging for supplies, looking for food, rebuilding what was left of our home…we'd yet to have a break where we could just take a moment and resettle ourselves. I didn't count the three days of panic-fueled confusion after we'd fell from our cryo-pods as a break for obvious reasons.

"Me too." I admitted, glancing towards Kiefer again.

As the oldest sibling, Killian and I looked towards him just out of habit. There was no true leader in our ragtag group, but when faced with the realization that we couldn't look towards an actual adult for direction, we looked towards the next best thing – the oldest. I was sure that Kiefer didn't appreciate the responsibility that came with his age, so we tried to come to decisions based on collaboration. But this was more of a test to see if he would admit his weakness like Killian and I had.

"Maybe we take it easy today." Kiefer nodded slowly, causing Killian and I to deflate with relief. "Stick close to home."

"Thank you." Killian breathed, and his forehead hit the counter with a loud _thunk._

Breakfast had dragged on at that point, each of us allowing ourselves the rare treat of second-breakfast as we poured another, albeit smaller, bowl of Sugar Bombs. Without the ever-looming shadow of responsibility lurking, we were able to just eat and talk. It had been forever since we'd had the opportunity to chew the fat. Conversation was slow to start as we scrounged for topics that wouldn't have us deflating with depression, but before long words were flowing. We even threw a few jokes around, grinning stupidly at one another as Codsworth buzzed around as busy as ever, dusting things that didn't need to be dusted and righting furniture that was where it should be. It almost felt like old times again.

I sat in the middle of the concrete square where the Robinsons had once lived. Their house had been so badly demolished that we'd torn it down and tossed all of the salvageable building material into the scrap pile by the front of the settlement. All that remained was the foundation, cracked but otherwise intact. That was big. Kiefer had pointed out that the perfectly flat and stable ground could be used to build anything. We'd been tossing a few ideas amongst one another for a week or so but had yet to settle on a decision. I was sorely looking forward to a bathhouse, to be quite honest. An actual tub that you could sit in, perhaps leaving off the roof so that the sun could shine in…it was much better than rubbing yourself down with a rag. Killian wanted to turn it into a basketball court; that wouldn't happen, I would make sure of it. Kiefer had mentioned building up a tower so that we could see everything around Sanctuary Hills; that, admittedly, was probably the best use of the limited space we had. But we weren't architects; we couldn't even build a sandcastle without it crumbling. The thought of building a tower stable enough to confidently hold someone? It was a little stressing.

Until a final decision could be made, it remained empty and full of possibilities. I figured it was the perfect spot to spend my day of isolated relaxation. The sun was unburdened by clouds that day, shining down freely and helping chase away the cold, breezy air. Even though I didn't technically need them, I kept on my jacket and a baseball cap to protect my skin from the sun. I was mindful of sunburn, not liking the images that sprang to my mind if I managed to get a seared without anything to ease the stinging pain. Plus, the risk of infection when I started to peel…it wasn't worth it.

I could have done the task I was currently doing inside the house, but I hadn't wanted to be confined inside the carcass of what had once been my family home. A desk, or table, would have definitely made it easier though. I had a stack of paper that had been water-logged and sun-dried for centuries ( something I'd collected rather than burn up when my brothers and I had cleaned up the settlement from miscellaneous trash) weighted down in front of me with a hefty stone I'd pulled from around the house's foundation. While it wasn't pretty paper, it was usable and I doubted that the new world was concerned about manufacturing more. What was I using it for? Planning.

I supposed it was probably counterproductive to work on our plans for the neighborhood while I was supposed to be on a break, but at the same time it was probably the perfect time. With just me, myself, and I to work, I could sketch out ideas and plans without having to constantly war for a place in conversation with my siblings. They were both off doing their own little side projects. Kiefer had decided to spend his free time trying to reconstruct his and Killian's room, clearing out the damage and patching up the gaping holes in the walls. I could hear the hammering and shifting of sheet metal, having seen him make a few trips to and from the scrap pile at the front of Sanctuary Hills before disappearing into the house for the final time before the noise started up.

Killian was tinkering around with the Pip-Boy that we'd recovered from the vault somewhere within the settlement. It was a model newer than what we were used to, with a whole list of new applications and programs that Kill was trying to figure out. Only the best of technology for the tyrannical government agency who I hoped was collectively rotting in the deepest pits of hell. And me? I was staring at a rough map I'd sketched of the surrounding area. I did a tentative drawing of where I thought we could build the walls, circling points of interest where we could build or create something useful in the limited space with our limited materials. I spent about an hour labeling and circling, shading and crossing big X's, before carefully placing the map into a wooden crate that sat beside me.

The crate was likely seeing its last days, held together by brittle wood and dull nails. Yet, it still managed to do its job and was holding a menagerie of miscellaneous notes and half-baked project ideas. Shuffling through the crate and doing my best to not get a paper cut, I finally found what I was looking for: a list of necessary needs printed in my bold and legible handwriting. It seemed so expansive and so unattainable, but most lists seemed that way until you started crossing things off. I used my finger to help mark my place as I reread the in-progress To-Do's. Some were in fact crossed through, but the majority stared me down intimidatingly.

Stay alive

So far so good. I snorted at myself, resisted to urge to put a question mark at the end.

Skarsdale Trailer Park

Deerbrooke Hood N.W.

Return to Vault

Bury the Bodies

Find Some Clothes

Find Clean Water? Filter? De-Rad – is it possible?

Better Weapons?

Scrap Houses  
(x)  
(x)  
(x)  
(x)

BATHROOM ( **PLEASE** )

Bridge? Patch? Trap?

Tap into the Water Tower? Clean? How?

A Wall for Sanctuary

Lookout Tower?

Toothpaste. Mouthwash. Soap. Deodorant. Something.

Get into the FUCKING Root Cellar

Organize Scrap

Go South  
Note from Kit: No.  
Note from Kiefer to the Note from Kit: Yes. Deal with it.

Nineteen was blank and open, waiting for an addition to the bottom half of the list that we hadn't yet had the chance to work through. I tapped my stick of charcoal on the stone foundation, watching black powder shower off before getting swept away in the wind. It took me a moment to see the added commentary on number eighteen, obviously added by Kiefer after I'd added my own comment before it. I shook my head. He wanted us to go south because we were running out of room to expand in the north. The mountains blocked our way, and the solitary highway that cut through it was likely a major hijacking point for the scum of today's society. It was unanimously agreed that the highway was not an option. But south…south was civilization. South was Concord and people and raiders. South could very well be no better than north.

I fell backwards with a sigh of defeat, only half-remembering to plop a rock down on the loose papers I'd pulled from the stack and scribbled on. My back, sore from being bent forward, struggled to relax as it conformed to the sudden flatness of the concrete. I closed my eyes against the brightness of the sun. My eyelids were washed a bright red, the small veins crisscrossing over the thin membrane flashing purple every so often. The ground underneath me was being warmed by the sun and radiating it back onto me, the ever-present breeze helping make sure I didn't get too hot. A wave of calm that I hadn't felt in too long of a time rushed through me as I bathed in the sun's warmth and listened to the breeze blowing hollowly through gutted buildings. I couldn't help it when I dozed off a handful of times, each time waking up more disoriented and foggier than I'd left off. Finally, around the sixth time awakening to a sluggish heartbeat and cottony mouth, I decided it was probably time to get up and go see how my brothers were faring. Packing up my supplies, feeling a bit like a secretary to a failing business, I grabbed my crate and pushed to my feet.

We didn't have any clocks except for the Pip-Boy, but I figured it had to be a little after noon by the declining position of the sun. On a normal day, we would have already put in a few good hours of work and would likely be stopping to rehydrate and nibble on something for lunch. I wasn't hungry, so I decided to forgo the day's second meal and try to put my room back together. It was about time that we all stopped huddling together in the bathroom at night. But, as I walked down the sidewalk back towards my house, I noticed Kiefer sitting on the front step with his head bowed. I frowned, my hands clenching tighter onto the wooden crate and causing it to creak ominously in protest. As I walked up the shorter sidewalk that led to our door, I stopped a few feet away from the motionless Kiefer. I stood there quietly for a few seconds, but he didn't even acknowledge my presence. He just stared at his damaged and clenched hands, knuckles white.

"Hey." I prompted. "You okay?"

He shook his head slowly, not looking up. Concern rushed through me, and I carefully picked my way closer. I sunk down beside him on the stone stairs, the shaded concrete freezing cold and burning my skin through my jeans. I winced, hating the sudden change from pleasantly warm to sudden chill. The weather of post-nuclear Massachusetts was much the same. Hot and then cold, then hot and then cold. I wondered if it would snow in the winter. The thought made me a little fearful. We wouldn't survive the snow, not how we were at the time. I pulled myself out of dismal thought of the future and returned my concern where it should be: my brother.

"What's wrong?" I asked, setting my box beside me.

Kiefer's whole body was wound tight like a spring, his spine stiff and jaw clenching so tight that the muscle in his cheek kept jumping madly. He inhaled slowly and let it out in a sudden breath, his body going suddenly limp and his head falling even further between his shoulder. He unclasped his badly scratched hands, the injuries likely from handling scrap without proper protection. My concern at the state of his skin faded like a snowflake in the face of a housefire. I gave a full-body wince, squeezing my lips together and closing my eyes.

 _Shit._

"…" I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say.

Kiefer bobbled the small ring box from hand to hand, brushing his thumb over the soft velvet coating before hiding it from sight once more and burying it back between his hands. It was as if the very sight of it brought him immense pain, and I was sure it did. I didn't know what to say or do. I sighed, hating myself for actually managing to forget about my brother's soon-to-be fiancée. I dropped my head like him, staring at the cracked sidewalk and watching tiny mites crawling through the dirt. The silence continued to hang between us painfully.

"Where was it?"

"Air vent." He replied, voice hoarse. "I was so scared I was going to lose the damn thing before I could give it to he-er."

His voice broke halfway through the last word. I clenched my jaw. We all hid things in the air vents of the house, as it was the only place we felt we could really stash our prized belongings. A few years back…well, a few years back from 2077, there had been a rash of burglaries in Sanctuary Hills. The three of us kids had been horrified that our house would inevitably be next and, in our fear, we'd began the habit of stuffing what we thought was _valuable_ into a box and stuffing that box into the vents. We kept the screws that held the grating loose so we could easily retrieve what we had hidden when we wanted it, but otherwise the vents looked untouched. For a moment, my mind shot to the tiny metal tacklebox I'd shoved in the vent in my own room. Another thing I'd forgotten about.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Kei-,"

"I'm a piece of shit, Kit."

I furrowed my brow at the abrupt confession. "What?"

"It's like…like, I knew that she was gone." Kiefer croaked, rolling the small velvet box in between his dirty fingers and then freeing one hand so he could point towards his temple. "I knew that, you know? Coming up out of the vault and seeing…I knew there was no way, _no way_ that she could have made it. I mean, an atomic bomb, Kit."

I nodded, keeping my mouth shut and just letting him talk.

"I knew it." Kiefer grimaced in self-disgust, nodding his head before looking away towards the sun. "I knew. It was like one of those…obvious thoughts. The sky is blue, water is wet, Hannah is de – but I didn't…acknowledge it. I didn't actually consider what it meant, you know? Like, yeah, she's gone, but…she's actually…she's _gone_ , Kit. Forever."

"Yeah." I whispered, wanting to reach towards him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but refraining. "She is. I'm sorry…man. I…I can't imagine…I'm just so, so, so sorry."

Kiefer turned his head back to face directly in front of him, and from his profile I could see the water welling up in his eyes that he desperately tried to blink back. My own eyes burned as I saw his very obvious grief, my throat getting a little tighter as I started to understand that nothing I said was going to make the situation better. Nothing I could do. I couldn't turn back time, and I couldn't bring people back from the dead. I'd sell my soul to be able to do either one, but…alas. Kiefer sniffed, licking his chapped lips.

"Five years." He choked. "We'd been together for five years. And I knew from the moment I met her that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We were going to get a place together in just a few weeks. I was going to propose on Christmas Eve…"

"I know, Kei." I nodded.

I could recall his excitement when he'd told Killian and I about his plans for the future that involved him and his girlfriend of five years finally tying the knot. It was something out of a romance movie. The high school sweethearts finally making it official and moving to take on the world with one another. I remembered the anxiousness on his face when he'd showed us the modest diamond ring that he'd bought, that had drained his entire savings from the two years he'd spent working at the IT section of the local RobCo Industries warehouse. The apprehension when he'd told our parents who had, understandably, been concerned with the fact that their firstborn was planning on leaving the nest and getting married only a few years out of high school. I remembered helping him pack up his room so that when they finally secured the lease on their apartment, they could move in right away; stowing all his things in boxes and labeling them myself because his handwriting was atrocious. I remembered feeling sad, although I hated to admit it. Sad that my older brother was moving on with his life. That the three musketeers would be no more. But, I had been so happy for him and Hannah.

"It wasn't until I found this stupid fucking box that I…realized what her being gone actually meant." Kiefer snapped, his knuckles turning white and the hinges on the box squeaking at his strong grip. "And then I realized that I hadn't thought about her, not really, since the morning everything went to hell."

I immediately saw where he was going and started shaking my head.

"Everything that's happened to us," I tried my best to comfort him, "No one can blame you if a few things slipped your mind-,"

"We were going to get _married_ Kit." Kiefer snapped, suddenly on his feet and therefore towering over me as he took a few steps away. "I loved her. We were going – she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And I haven't thought about her _once_ until today. I didn't think of her when those sirens went off, or when we were running for the Vault, or when the flash happened…"

"We were panicked." I pressed back, staying seated so it wouldn't look like I was aiming for a fight. "All of us. We came seconds close to death ourselves, and then we wake up to _this_." I raised my arm in a grand sweeping motion, gesturing to the destruction around us. "There hasn't been much time to think about anything except for the 'right now' and the future."

"I haven't thought about Hannah." Kiefer went on like he hadn't heard me. "I haven't thought about any of my friends. The rest of our family – even Mom and Dad. I haven't thought about them in days, Kit, maybe weeks. I'm a piece of shit."

"No, you aren't." I denied. I hadn't thought of them either.

"I'm a piece of shit." Kiefer said again, softer. "I can't stop thinking about her now…I keep thinking…about when it happened, you know? When the sirens started going off and the televisions were forced to that news channel. When the reporter started saying that bombs were dropping, and that they were _nuclear_ …how scared she had to have been. I wonder if she'd tried calling the house. If she had tried hiding. Did she jump in her car and try driving here? If the blast had…or the radiation, or…was she alone? Was she…she had to be so scared…I wasn't…did she think of me? Did she think of me in her last few moments, when all I thought about was my…"

The pains that kept clenching in my chest had me absent of breath and made even my jaw ache with the strength of the grief-pangs. He trailed off while looking at the ring box in his hand, looking like for a brief moment he was considering chucking it, but he just shoved it in his pocket and started walking away. The abrupt end of his emotional speech startled me, leaving me blinking after him for a few seconds. I stood up as he hurried away, making to follow him.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, heart beating a little faster at the thought of Kiefer wandering around with a broken heart and guilt-filled mind.

"I need to get away." He called back, not turning around. "Don't follow me."

"Kei, stay in Sanctuary!" I yelled as he got farther and farther, but I obediently halted at the end of the sidewalk. "Stay in Sanctuary! _Kei_!"

He didn't make any sign that he heard me, heading further down the road toward the cul-de-sac at the end of the neighborhood. I shook my head helplessly, my hands flying towards my face as two beads of water leaked from my eyes. Using the heels of my palms, I violently wiped them away before turning and heading for the orange door. I didn't know what to do. When I opened it, I saw Killian sitting at the bar with his back to me. I froze again, knowing that he had had to have heard the last little bit of mine and Kiefer's conversation. I habitually wiped my feet on the welcome mat before heading inside, closing the door behind me and hanging my jacket on the coat rack by the door.

I hesitated for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip and staring at Killian's back as he continued on with what he was doing, his lack of a reaction to the door opening and closing making it seem he didn't know I was even there. I knew he knew I was, and that he'd heard. He was acting too nonchalant to be believable. A few thoughts and doubts started circulating in my head, glancing through the half-boarded living room window at the empty neighborhood. Was Killian struggling just as badly as Kiefer? Checking one last time to make sure any remnant tears from my older brother's heartfelt confession were gone, I cleared my throat to make sure I'd be able to talk without breaking off.

"You doing okay?" I spoke calmly to announce my presence, walking towards the bar and looking over Killian's shoulder.

Any concerns about Killian's emotional turmoil were slightly abated as he glanced up at me with a pursed but earnest smile on his lips. The stark difference between him and Kiefer threw me for a moment.

"This thing has a GPS, Kit." Killian informed excitedly. "An actual GPS connected to a live satellite somewhere. Look at this."

He scooted over a bit so I could get a better look at the Pip-Boy sitting on the counter. I leaned in, staring at the green-on-black gridding. Sure enough, a green dot was blinking in the upmost top left corner of the somewhat topographical map. Killian pointed at it.

"That's us." He explained the obvious, "And if I was to walk a few hundred feet away, it would move correspondingly. And you can mark the map with waypoints, like this…"

He clicked a button and flicked the knob, and a house shaped icon appeared in the general area where we were. The label attached to it read HOME. My eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow." I murmured. "That could be useful."

"You can access your exact coordinates," Killian explained, "And mark it with an icon or a label, and it save it. So, curiously, I headed out on the other side of the bridge-,"

"You left the settlement by yourself?" I interrupted, shooting him a disapproving look.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I didn't go far, just enough to put distance between me and the HOME icon." Killian assured, rolling his eyes. "Listen, this thing makes a marker on your compass in the direction you need to go in order to reach your destination. All you do is roll onto the HOME icon, click the options button, and scroll down to the 'Go to' command."

I watched as he demonstrated, trying to memorize what he clicked and what he pushed.

"This could be extremely useful, especially when we start venturing farther out." Killian surmised.

I felt my pulse quicken as he mention heading further out, but kept my thoughts to myself. Instead, I patted him on the back a few times and nodded.

"Good work, Kill." I congratulated. "Seriously. This is good work."

"Oh, you know," The younger sibling sighed, "Wasting my life with technology…it's sort of my thing."

Our parents had always said that, somewhat teasing and somewhat reprimanding as they'd worried about their youngest who always seemed more interested with wires and data chips than the real world. I huffed a gentle laugh, ruffling his hair after a moment. He smacked my hand away and I took my leave, heading towards the hallway with intentions of going to my room. I hesitated before I could leave the living area, glancing out the window one last time.

"Hey, keep an eye out for Kei." I said. "He's…not in the best place right now."

"Yeah, I…sorta heard a little bit." Killian frowned, and I gathered that Kiefer hadn't shown Killian the ring box. "What's up with that?"

"Just…memories." I filled in after a moment, deciding it best not to start spreading Kiefer's personal issues around like gossip. "Look, just keep an eye out. If you see Codsworth, maybe see if you can send him to look in on Kei."

"No problem." Killian nodded, but the frown on his face told me that he wasn't placated by my evasive answer.

"Thanks." I sighed, throwing a hand up in farewell and finally heading down the hallway.

I sat in the middle of the floor, looking out the gaping hole in my wall that showed off the backyard. Our grill, as bright and orange and gaudy as the front door, was rusted and sitting on a few patio stones. Dad used to grill steaks and chicken almost every night. The three of us hated it. What we wouldn't have given just to order a pizza, or to go out once in a while. But Mom and Dad were sort of health-nuts, so unless it was someone's birthday or a special occasion, chicken or steak it was. A deflated kickball was have buried in brittle grass, sun-bleached and rotting. I couldn't hardly recall the last time I'd kicked the ball around with my siblings. We'd all been small children, I was sure of that. The remnants of Mom's garden was more or less just dirt in the concrete planters attached to the back of the house. She'd spent so much time tending it when she wasn't working.

I sat there reminiscing, recalling every nostalgic memory I could conjure up. I waited to feel the aching in me, the feeling of poignant and agonizing sadness that I'd felt when I'd awoken from cryosleep. It never came. The memories in my head felt different; not exactly those of a stranger but not exactly as meaningful as they should have been considering they were my own, and all I had left of the life before…all of this. I'd felt chest-tightening sadness when Kiefer had confided in me, but was that sadness for Hannah or for the pain that my brother was currently going through? Was it for the past, or the present?

I wasn't sure; but what good did thinking back on the past do anyways? Sure, I could sit there in the destroyed remnants of my room and think of everything I'd lost. My best friend, Kevin, who was without a doubt gone. We'd been friends since middle school, surviving that and most of high school together. He'd been the greatest person I'd known who wasn't family. He was a good person, an excellent student, and he would have done great things in the biotechnic field he'd been pursuing after graduation. My other friends that had likely perished as well, and I'm sure that they went scared and painfully. Teachers who I'd been fond of, dead. My aunt and uncle, and my three little cousins – they were likely gone as well. My grandma…gone. Our cat, who had gone missing a few days prior, never would have survived the blast. He was fat and dependent and lazy and skittish. I almost hoped he'd somehow passed before the bomb fell. I hated to think of him huddling scared under someone's vehicle, watching the mushroom cloud light of the sky and the wave of heat barreling closer.

Sure, thinking of all of that made me feel melancholy and regretful, but there wasn't the appropriate emotion for my brutally murdered past. I didn't feel much of anything besides tired and a little unbalanced. I hadn't felt much…in a while, now that I was thinking about it. Just weary and worried about my current family and problems. No grief for the one's I'd lost. No guilt for surviving when they didn't. Nothing at all. And that scared me.


	8. Chapter 8: Woman's Best Friend

Chapter 8: Woman's Best Friend

 _Hello. It's been 126 days since we left the Vault. It's been…a long time since I wrote in this ratty old journal. I couldn't believe that, of all things, my diary would have survived two hundred years. Time should have destroyed it, at the least. But it was exactly where I'd left it the morning when…everything happened, looking relatively unharmed. Who would have thought a simple tacklebox hidden in the air vent would have been enough to keep it from weathering away? I'll note that my other surviving "valuables" include my collection of Sugar Bombs boxtops, the glass eye from that creepy porcelain doll Grandma gave me, a few baseball cards that were exceptionally valuable once upon a time, and a heavy baggy of gold coins – Nana never paid us with paper money. She always gave us rolls of minted gold coins for our birthdays and Christmas._

 _The Pip-Boy said today is February 28, so I can only assume that it's accurate. If so, we missed Halloween. And Christmas. And the herald of the new year. And Mom's birthday. We've been busy. We've spent what feels like forever preparing for a winter that never came. I don't know if I'm grateful or just irritated. On the bright side, even though we busted our asses out of fear of plummeting temperatures and scarce food, our frantic scrounging gave us a surplus of resources that we were able to live off of comfortably for a while. With how cool it is, I kept waiting for the freeze to arrive. It never did. Codsworth said that it sometimes didn't snow for years at a time, but then in a blink of an eye it would freeze, and the world would be blanketed with white for continuous months. Other years had been so hot that the tar on the buildings had melted and dripped, and wildfires had raged unchecked. I suppose we should be grateful that the year's climate has been rather pleasant – not too hot, not too cold. However, I can't help thinking that nice weather now only means hellish weather later._

 _We fixed up the house. We've finally completed erecting shutters around all the windows and patching the holes in the walls. There are so many sheets of metal overlaying on the roof that it's pretty much waterproof. We found mattresses, too. Three of them, if you can believe it (moldy, growing fungus, and infested with tiny bugs we couldn't identify, but they were mattresses and we're thankful for them). We've moved out of the bathroom and back into our own rooms from before the End. I know we're just right across the hall from each other, but I already miss the comfort of falling asleep in arm's distance from my brothers. Waking up in the middle of the night, all I would have to do was open my eyes and be reassured that they were both still there. Still okay. Now, I have to actually get up and go across the hall. Exhausting. It's funny that I always relished having my own space before, but now I'm jealous that they share a room. But I'll be seventeen in a few months. I'm grown enough to be able to sleep in my own room without being scared. In theory._

 _We finished up the graveyard back behind the Stagner's place at the back of the cul-de-sac a few weeks ago. We had dug the holes, driven in the grave markers, and gathered up everyone we could find. We're still finding bodies, though, so I guess I can't say it's actually 'finished'. Killian opened a fridge that Codsworth had hauled out of the river yesterday, and I swear I saw his ghost leave his body when a tumble of bones and tattered clothing fell out. I guess some poor bastard tried climbing inside thinking it would save him. Maybe he did survive the explosion, only to suffocate on the inside. I wonder which would be worse._

 _We've torn down the remaining four of the unsalvageable houses and cleared out all the others. Any intact furniture we brought back home. It's funny; with the walls rebuilt and actual furniture to sit on, beds to sleep on, this place is starting to feel like an actual home again. I have to give most of the credit to Codsworth, though. I honestly don't know where we'd be without him. He takes so much burden off of us, and he's happy to do it. We didn't appreciate him enough before the End._

 _For all our progress, we still haven't gone in Mom and Dad's room. It's too painful. We just keep the door closed and avoid eye contact with it. It's like when you hide under your blanket when you think there's a monster in your closet. If you don't look and acknowledge it, it has no power over you. Someday, one of us will have the stones to breach the doorway, but not today. Not any day I can see in the near future, either. And that's okay, I think._

 _On to happier things; we have a source of clean water. That slow-moving river that passes under the main bridge is practically poison. It's so heavily radiated that even skin contact can be dangerous. When I'd ventured down there before, the Geiger counter on the Pip-Boy started spiking like crazy before I'd gotten within a few feet of it. Now, the stream that passes under the_ smaller _bridge on the trail to the vault is somewhat better. At the very least, it's okay for washing clothes, since it moves quicker and comes from underground a way up the hill where the Vault is. I still wouldn't feel okay drinking it. Thankfully, the Ivancevich's, our next-door neighbors, have a handpump in their backyard. It took some finagling and TLC, but it's functional. It draws from the aquifer far underground, and it is_ actually _good enough to drink. A good thing, too. We're almost out of canned water._

 _Food is still scarce and hard to come by. So is Rad-X – and we desperately need that. More than food, probably. We figured out that our exhaustion was more than just sleepless nights and long grueling days. We were being poisoned; radiation sickness. Our bodies are so unused to the radiation that simply exists in the very air we breathe that we're taking pills daily and, between the three of us, a bottle doesn't last too long. We've found a few bags of Radaway near the vault in one of the operation trailers, but we're saving those for a 'worst-case scenario'. Unfortunately, that might be closer than we'd like._

 _Me and Killian are going to make the trek up to Red Rocket today. We've had it planned for a while. Kiefer's staying behind – he has a touch of radiation sickness. He's been throwing up all morning and hasn't left his room. He goes from sleeping to being blearily awake, and I prefer when he's unconscious. The idiot keeps trying to play it off like he has food poisoning or something, and I feel like a warden trying to keep a prisoner in his cell. Codsworth is looking out for him at the moment, but we're holding out on the Radaway until we know it's necessary. We measure his radiation levels with the Pip-Boy this morning, and he's hovering under one hundred rads. Codsworth seems to think he'll be able to recover without medicine. I'm not sure about that, but I hope so._

 _I think we're getting the hang of butchering animals. None of us were hunters before, obviously. I cried the first time I had to shoot one of the two-headed deer that congregate under the bases of the nearby powerlines. I knew it was necessary; we were hungry. But it wasn't a clean kill – I was shaking too much, and the bullet went too high. The noises it made…the hoarse bleating and the desperate way it tried to scrabble to stay on its feet before I fired the second and more accurate shot…I still get goosebumps even thinking about it. I threw up when we cut it open. I'm unfamiliar with the anatomy of deer normally, but a mutated one? That's a whole other level of grotesque. And that second, smaller head sprouting out from underneath he main one? Distorted and unnatural, lolling about and staring at us accusingly as we sliced into its carcass…there's just so much that we still don't know about the world we're –_

"Hey, you ready yet?"

My hand jerked on the page I was scribbling on, scouring an ugly black line through part of the last paragraph I'd written. I grimaced before looking up. Killian stood in the doorway, looking impatient and ready to go. I blinked in surprise, looking down at how much I had written before realizing I'd spent far longer than I'd intended reminiscing with my old journal. I'd only intended to read a few pages, but then I thought I should just…add an update. Again, the update I had intended was only supposed to be a few sentences, but then I just kept going and going. After the first few words, paragraphs just kept pouring from my pencil onto the page. It was almost cathartic. I rolled the pencil into the spine of the book and closed it, setting it back inside my toolbox and pushing to my feet.

"Yeah." I nodded, feeling my joints creak as I stood. "I'll meet you outside."

Killian looked a little put out but nodded regardless and turned around, leaving me alone. I glanced around my room. It wasn't the same as it had been before the End, but it was coming together. The mattress on the ground was disgusting, and a rug laid on top of it was all that protected me from the various stains and miscellaneous growths that had inhabited the cushioned slab. I had a nightstand, on which my inhaler and my pistol sat. My dresser was pressed up against the wall opposite my bed, actually holding clothes rather than just sitting there with empty promises. It was a relief being able to change into clothes that actually fit me half-decently rather than being swallowed by a mechanic outfit three sizes too big.

I inhaled deeply and let the exhale out slow, closing my eyes for a moment. The four walls around me represented some sort of safety, and I was about to leave them to chart unknown territory with just my little brother for backup. It wasn't that I didn't trust him. Killian had more than proved himself on numerous occasions already. It's just the way it sounded when I thought about it…my little brother was my backup. It didn't inspire a whole lot of confidence. The two of us were heading southeast, something we hadn't done before. We'd razed the north, though, of anything even slightly useful. Any hope of finding supplies or food laid to the south, which meant heading down the main road towards Red Rocket and, if we continued walking, Concord. The thought sent a tightening in my abdomen that might have been nausea. Heading south meant heading towards the remnants of civilization. That meant possibly running into people. That was another thing that didn't inspire much confidence.

"Suck it up." I scolded myself, snagging my inhaler and stuffing it in the pocket of my jeans. "With Kiefer down, you're the big cheese until further notice. You don't _get_ to be nervous, understand?"

My attempt at a pep-talk did little to nothing besides making me feel silly. I flipped the lid of the toolbox shut, fastening the latch and climbing on top of the ottoman I'd commandeered from the living room to reach the vent that was too high for me to access from the ground. I flipped the grate open and slid the toolbox inside, wincing at the sound of metal grating on metal. There was no point of actually hiding it; we all hid our crap in the same places, after all, and we all knew exactly where to look if we wanted to go snooping. It was just habit, I supposed. Closing the grate, I hopped down off of the ottoman and shoved it away from the grated part of the wall with my foot.

I grabbed my gun next, sliding it into the thigh holster that I'd rigged with my belt and a bit of radstag leather let over from one of our previous hunts. Stomping my feet a bit to make sure my boots were laced on tight, I pulled my _only_ ponytail holder from my wrist and into my hair as I made for my doorway. I was about to turn down the hall and mosey into the living room when I froze. The doting, motherly instincts in me bid that I check on my sick brother before I could head out with any sort of confidence or a semblance of peace of mind.

I tiptoed to the doorway across from mine, hovering in the threshold. Kiefer was curled up on his own mattress, three threadbare blankets piled up on top of him as he shivered with cold sweats. I'd been trying to figure out how he'd gotten so sick so quick while Killian and I were doing okay. I hadn't had time to properly question him about it since most of his waking hours were spent either vomiting or gazing deliriously into the void. What I could infer, though, was that as our final bottle of Rad-X had started to dwindle, he'd been skimping on his daily dosage to make more rations for Killian and I. It was a very martyr-ish move, and I planned to give him absolute hell when he got better.

A can of purified water sat beside him, untouched but open if he needed it. A bucket sat beside the water, empty at the moment and hopefully to remain that way. The indoor shutters were pinned against the wall, uncovering the windows that they had once blocked and letting in a faint breeze that smelt stale but cooled the shaded room just a tad, taking away the claustrophobic feeling of a sickroom. Reassured that Kiefer was still breathing, I finally made for outside.

Killian was waiting on the sidewalk as I exited, munching on a mutfruit and pacing the broken concrete with impatience. He looked up as I exited, the orange door groaning softly as I closed it behind me. I jerked my head in acknowledgement, eyeing the nearly spent fruit. He must have snagged it from the crate we had sitting in the kitchen, the "fruits" of our labor from making the long hike east to where we'd stumbled across a few mutfruit trees growing stunted and sprawling. They didn't taste all that great; a thick and waxy purple skin covered the soft and grainy flesh on the inside. It was something like a mix between a too-soft apple and a sour pear. Nonetheless, it was food.

"Compost." I reminded, walking past him to the road.

"I know." He muttered through a bite, falling in step with me after a second of catching up.

It had been surprisingly easy to make the compost box which we then filled with…the things you composted with, to be euphemistic. Codsworth, thank the lord for him, had been taking bucketful by bucketful of the mixture and integrating it in with the soil behind the house across from us. The Rosas' backyard butted up against a small park where the neighborhood kids had liked to hang out and play. It had a lot of open space and constant sunlight, both of which we assumed were necessary for our next plans. We wanted to try and fertilize the soil because we had some hope that we might be able to garden. We'd seen wild fruits and vegetables growing out in the barren wilds. The problem was, we had to venture outside of Sanctuary to actually harvest them. A lot of dangers stood in the way. But, if we had them close by, it eliminated the risk by a rather wide margin.

As we passed by the Rosas' place, Killian took a final bite out of his mutfruit and eyed over my head with concentration. The compost box was a few yards away from the Rosas' place, and even further from the road. It would be a long throw. He reared back his arm and chucked it over my head. I heard the dull thudding of the seeded core hitting wood after a moment of airtime, and by Killian's triumphant expression I figured he'd made it. He held up his hand for a high-five, and I half-heartedly smacked at it with my fingers.

"You got the list?" I asked.

"Yup." Killian patted the breast pocket of his flannel, the crumpling sound of paper emanating from it. "Do you think we'll actually find what we're looking for?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. We'll find something. Maybe nothing useful, but something."

He nodded in grudging agreement, hiking his baseball bat under his arm so that he could use both hands and swipe his hair away from his face. It was getting long, hanging in his eyes and touching the tips of his ears. He usually kept it swept back and gelled down with animal fat that we kept jarred up from the wasteland creatures we hunted. If it wasn't being used to make soap (something we'd learned how to do from reading a book we'd found at the nearby trailer park), it was free to be used for mostly anything else. It wasn't the most hygienic, but we were hesitant to use our knives to hack off even a few inches of hair. It might be vanity, or it might be the fear of accidentally cutting ourselves and getting an infection so close to our brains, but none of us were willing to go sawing away at our hair. Scissors would be nice to fine, and even gardening clippers would be preferable. It seemed today, though, Killian seemed at his wits end with smothering his head with grease.

"Grow it out longer and you can pull it back in a ponytail." I commented, watching him struggle to get comfortable.

"The day I have a ponytail is the day when I'm also living in a trailer with a bloodhound name Hester." Killian sneered.

I smirked, picturing him with a beer-gut and a red plastic cup filled with cheap whiskey. I let him struggle with his hair for a few more seconds before reluctantly pulling my baseball hat off of my own head and passing it towards him. He hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking it was a muttered thanks. As we made to walk over the bridge, we caught sight of Codsworth hovering along the rocky bank below. He was using his pincer arm to haul tires out of the river, piling them on the bank to be later used in building a small wall to reinforce our side of the bridge. Since he wasn't made of flesh and blood, he was the only one that could safely navigate the riverbed without risk.

"Codsworth! We're heading out." I called down. "Kie's sleeping."

"Very good." Codsworth returned, voice faint from the change in elevation. "Be safe, children. Watch out for one another!"

"Yes, Mom." Killian muttered sarcastically under his breath before freezing in realization.

I tensed as well, clenching my jaw. At the guilty side-look he shot me, I quickly decided to sidestep the comment. These days, it was easier to just not think about the man and woman who had brought us into the world and raised us. Reminders just hurt. Best to just pretend we'd sprung fully formed from the ground and avoid the emotional pain.

"We will." I shouted. "Take care of Kie."

"Of course, miss." Codsworth returned. "Always."

With that comforting promise, we continued trekking across the bridge, our footsteps turning hollow sounding as we crossed the span of petrified wood. We cautiously coasted around the giant gaping hole halfway through, stepping over some boards that looked particularly close to giving way. We'd yet to get around to tackling that issue. If anything, though, we reasoned it was a rather good deterrent. Anyone wanting to reach Sanctuary would have to either cross the heavily-radiated water or traverse the bridge. Kiefer had even talked about having Codsworth rig some sharpened metal and wood underneath for the extra "deadly" effect. The fear that one of us would accidentally fall prey to our own traps was enough to have us holding out on enacting it as well. We decided that building a defensive wall along the bridge opening for a few meters in both directions was a good first start.

In car, the drive would have taken perhaps ten minutes. On bike, you could make it in fifteen if you pushed it. On foot, we were looking at a half hour to get there and a half hour to get back. We were moving so incredibly slow, more focused on taking in what was around us than swiftly moving. Nervous didn't even begin to cover how I was feeling as we made our way down the road towards the Red Rocket gas station. The wind was so loud out in the open as we were, rushing over the dusty ground and hissing through thorny bramble bushes that studded the exposed roadway. Dirt-devils popped up every now and then on particularly loose topsoil, spinning in a cyclone for a few seconds before they'd wobble out of existence.

We'd had this trip planned for two weeks now, so I knew that it was unavoidable. I wasn't sure whether or not we'd even find anything useful at the gas station, but we were so low on food that we couldn't risk to _not_ take the risk of going. The north had been emptied of anything useful and our supplies from scrounging had held us through what should have been the winter months. Ammo was in finite supply, and if we wanted to save as much of it as we could just in case we needed to defend Sanctuary. That meant hunting was saved until we were in real need of food, and in such a case the meat from a radstag could last us a few days and was usually worth the ammo investment. But, as I said, bullets were scarce, and we'd been in Sanctuary for months now. It was only a matter of time before someone stumbled upon our burgeoning home.

Killian walked on my left, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. My right hand was ghosting by the thigh holster I'd rigged, ready to grab my gun at the slightest threat. We'd yet to have needed to use them for anything _except_ the occasional hunting trip, but that didn't mean we wouldn't need to. Killian had a baseball bat clenched in his hands, eyes so intent on scouring the roughly foliaged landscape that he continued to nearly trip on the chunks of asphalt that had come unseated from the road.

"Careful." I told him instinctively for the umpteenth time as his boot caught on the raised lip of concrete, nearly pitching him onto his face.

"How about from now on, I'll be careful until told otherwise." Killian snapped.

I could have argued with him, but I was far too uncomfortable on the road to attempt to. As we continued on in silence, I almost wished I had tried. The awful noise of the stagnant wind blowing through dead grass was grinding horribly on my nerves. My overactive mind was racing, and even though I knew it wasn't, I was sure that there were tiny people hiding in the scant foliage and whispering about my brother and me. It was as we were approaching the station, the red rocket logo shooting into the sky from it's perch on top of the structure, that the monotony of wind and tiny hidden gossip-mongering people was interrupted.

I froze abruptly, head cocking in the direction I could have sworn I'd heard the noise. A bark? That couldn't be good, if in fact I had even heard it. It was obvious that dogs still ran around the Commonwealth, as we had had a few run-ins with them. Mange ridden, flesh a sickly dirty pink, teeth overgrown and piercing its own flesh, ribs sticking painfully against its wrinkled skin…they were nightmarish, just like all of the new creatures of the world. They often traveled in small packs of three or four but were reluctant to approach in the bright light of day where we could easily see them coming. Of course, that didn't mean they wouldn't.

"Did you hear that?" I asked quietly.

"Hear what?" Killian furrowed his brow at me.

"I…nothing." I dismissed it. "Just my nerves."

"If you heard something-,"

"I thought I heard a bark, is all." I finished.

Killian's grip on his bat tightened. Wild dogs were dodgy and untrustworthy before the end of the world, and nuclear ruin hadn't made them anymore benevolent. I prayed that it had just been my imagination and that I was getting worked up over nothing, because everything inside of me told me I would hate myself if I ended up having to shoot a dog, deranged or not. Kiefer wasn't here to take care of the dirty business this time. The responsibility of putting down a threat would fall to me. I could do it, I was certain…I would just feel like absolute garbage afterwards.

We continued towards the rocket soaring above the dead trees, more slowly this time and keeping our mouths firmly shut. Five minutes went on without incident, and we were finally walking up the sloping incline to the station. We paused at the bottom of the paved hill, glancing around and giving our burning legs a needed rest. It looked much the same as it had before the bombs fell, if not a little worse for wear. It seemed obvious that the effects of the nuclear fallout this far out were simply the radiation, heat burst, and shockwave from wherever the initial impact had been. Otherwise, none of the buildings would still be standing.

The grass was brittle and grey, but overgrown where it sprouted up in balding patches. The concrete was cracked and fractured, much like the road leading towards it had been. Huge chunks were missing in places, leaving just piles of churned up dirt. I frowned at the numerous holes. I had a sinking feeling that I knew what had dug into the ground, and the culprits could very well still be lurking. As long as we stayed relatively quiet and didn't vibrate the ground too much, we should be okay. My hand drifted closer towards my gun, resting on the cold metal grip. The windows of the gas station had been blown out, but the numerous doors were still intact. A few vehicles remained on the property, utterly useless and stranded. They'd be good for scrap, if need be.

"You got a plan?" Killian asked, glancing suspiciously at the dug-up holes as I had.

Ha ha, no. I smothered my sarcastic snort and tried to appear confident. Fake it 'til you make it. That was my motto these days. Smile, head up, back straight, and give the impression that you actually believe in the bullshit you're spewing out.

"Mark this location on our Pip-Boy." I spoke quietly and took equally soft steps, walking into the shade casted by the building's overhang.

"We know where the Red Rocket is." Killian protested in the same muted tone.

"Just do it." I snapped, shooting him a small glare. "There's no harm in it."

Killian let out a deep, put-out sigh but lifted his arm and started fiddling. I let out my own sigh, much quieter but just as exasperated. Sometimes, even the most simple and mundane of requests were like pulling teeth with my youngest brother. Somedays, everything was a fight with him. In that aspect, nuclear damnation couldn't erode away Killian's bull-headed disposition. I continued towards the closed door, seeing Killian's shadow follow after me.

"Let's sweep the inside." I suggested, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he was ready to go. "Then we can scrounge around. Just make sure nothing is going to jump us while we're rummaging."

"Fine." Killian agreed, twirling the bat in his hand and shaking his non-dominant arm, jostling the Pip-Boy into a more comfortable position. "Lead the way."

That was fine. I'd rather go first into potential danger than him, anyway.

"Keep quiet." I reminded unnecessarily. "Mind the holes. They could be old, could be new, but it's best to stay on the safe side."

Killian nodded. I headed towards the closest door, hearing old glass crunch under my boots. I winced but tried not to get too strung out. Crunching glass wouldn't be enough to stir the figurative hornets' nest beneath us. The door, which normal would have opened as soon as it sensed movement, remained stubbornly closed. I slipped my fingers into the thin window opening, giving a tug only for the door not to budge. My eyes flicked to a red lever on the wall beside the door, and I twisted it harshly to break through the rust. The sudden swoosh of the door sliding into its hidden pocket scared the piss out of me, and I jumped backwards and ran into Killian. He panicked like I did, raising his baseball bat up and ready to beat the hell out of whatever threat rushed us. It was only a moment of fear before a wave of embarrassment washed over the both of us, heaving breaths and self-deprecating snorts exiting our mouths.

"It's just a fucking door." I breathed, shaking my head. "Got a hold of yourself, Katherine."

I pulled my gun out of my holster as we made to enter, giving Killian the quiet order to stay behind me. The last thing I wanted to do was accidentally shoot my brother. A wall of shelving was the first thing we ran into, a few tools and miscellaneous car parts laid out. I made note of it but otherwise paid it no mind. I stepped through the doorway and into the dim building that was only illuminated by the sunlight coming through the front windows. The entryway was pretty dull and uneventful, old newspapers and broken coffee cups littering the floor. I glanced through the sliding door on the inside that seemed to lead into a garage, faint noise coming from it. I froze, releasing my gun with one hand to hold it up and silently order Killian to halt.

I continued on by myself, sliding up against the wall beside the door and trying to get a better look. I could definitely hear someone talking through the door, but the surprisingly intact glass muffled the noise. There was someone in there. I swallowed thickly, my heart racing. Part of me wanted to grab Killian and just get the hell out. The other part of me knew that this was a part of the new world I was going to have to get use to. I couldn't keep running from every conflict. I couldn't keep relying on Kiefer to put his life on the line, to get his hands dirty. I needed to grow up and take care of my own. This was as good of a place to start as any. I glanced over at Killian who was watching me with wide and keen eyes. I mouthed one word to him.

" _Someone."_ I whispered nearly soundless, jerking my head towards the garage door.

He nodded, tightening his grip on his bat. I held up three fingers, two fingers, one finger, and then I flipped the red lever. The door shot open with a muffled hiss and I leapt into the vacated space, gun pointed in the direction of the voice. I almost pulled the trigger blindly with my adrenaline and fear, but I was glad I didn't.

" _Coming to you from, uh, the jeweled green... I mean the green, the uh Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, it's... Diamond City Radio."_ It was a male's voice, stumbling and disjointed speech patterns and a quavering voice making him seem less than confident as he spoke.

The little atomic radio was sitting on a metal table, the light from it's tuner shining dully in the darkness of the garage. Relief smacked into me like a fist to the stomach, and my arms dropped haltingly as I forced myself to loosen my grip on the stock. I dropped my head.

" _So, this radio station...we don't really make any caps...and, uh, there are...well some people help me stay on the air. People like, uh, like this_ ,"

"Is that a recording?" Killian asked, having followed me into the room when I hadn't started shooting. "Or is it…a live broadcast?"

"I don't know." I whispered, walking towards the crackling box.

Killian moved in front of me, kneeling down beside the radio and grabbing the antennae, searching for a better signal than the scratchy quality we were receiving. I took in the contents of the garage, slowly patrolling the walls. A yellow rack was pressed against the back wall, two strange mechanic benches on opposite sides of the space, and the front wall actually a metal garage door that was currently down. I glanced up, confirming that the metal was a rolling door as I saw the tracks attached to it extend up to the ceiling. I moved towards it, running a hand along the corrugated metal looking for a purchase. Killian remained fastidiously focused on his task. He got close to clear quality before the connection cut out altogether, bathing the enclosed space in loud static. I winced and Killian cursed, his fingers flying to the volume knob to turn it down.

"Damn it, I almost had it!" He snapped, frantically working the tuner dial with one hand and the antennae with the other. "We might need to take it outside-,"

As he spoke, I'd moved away from the purchase-less garage door, following the wire to a closed box mounted on the wall. The lock on it was broken, and I swung the door open to find a red button. I tapped it with my fist, and the loud raucous sound of the metal grinding on tracks interrupted my brother. I immediately regretted it, not having expected such a loud and ungodly noise to emanate from the door even though I should have. Killian nearly fell backwards at the sudden sound, wincing against the sunlight that started streaming in as the garage door was fed up to the ceiling. As the door cleared the now gaping entry, the radio squealed back to life. Killian excitedly returned to his finagling, but I was watching the station yard with apprehension and self-loathing, waiting for an ugly pink creature to burst out of the ground. Killian finetuned it, and the nervous man's voice returned, sounding like he was in the middle of reading an advertisement.

" _Diamond City Surplus. Now open twenty-four hours a day. Management reserves the right to refuse service to anyone. Especially Synths._ "

"Especially what?" I muttered.

"Diamond City." Killian latched onto the name. "Do you…do you think there's really a city somewhere out there?"

"Whoa, we're not even sure this is a recent broadcast." I denied, refusing to get excited over something that could have possibly fallen over the last couple of centuries. "It…it might be automated or something. Set on a loop."

"But if it's not?" Killian insisted, turning to face me. "If it's not, then…that's huge, Kit. I mean, here we are thinking that all there is left in the world is us, monsters, Codsworth, and wanderers. There could be actual permanent settlements out there, civilized places-,"

"Look, just stop, okay?" I interrupted, holding out a hand. "Just stop. We're counting our eggs before they're hatched. Turn that thing off. We'll take it back with us, but we've got work to do here, okay?"

Killian looked like he wanted to argue with me, but he sucked on his teeth and stayed silent. He flipped the radio switch off, and silence reigned once again. Pushing to his feet, he shouldered past me back into the store's interior.

"I haven't cleared-,"

"I've got it." He snapped brusquely.

I watched him disappear around the corner, throwing my hands in aggravation. I heard him rummaging around in the back of the station, so I moved outside. Tires were literally everywhere, some of them almost as tall as I was and stacked five or six high. Smaller tires were tossed around haphazardly like a messed-up obstacle course. A few faded traffic cones were tipped on their side, and more of those eerie holes were popping out of the concrete. I eyed them with distrust, tapping my index finger on the trigger guard with anxious energy. I wished I could tell whether or not the holes were freshly dug or old. I cautiously made my way up towards the nearest one, falling to one knee and gingerly touching the dirt piled around the sides. Damp. It wasn't solid proof that it was recent, as the morning had been damped with dew, but –

No sooner than I'd pulled my hand away, I heard the chilling sound of claws scrabbling against soil from underneath me, getting louder as it approached the exit I hovered above. I drew back, fumbling for my knife and yanking it from its sheath. The pale, pink, mottled head of the mole rat had barely crested the hole when I stabbed it through its skull. It died soundlessly, thankfully, and it'd dead beady eyes stared at me. I swallowed thickly with revulsion, staring at the bent and broken whiskers and the yellowed, jagged rodent teeth poking out of its lips. I pulled a rag out of my back pocket, covering my free hand and picking the mole rat up by the back of its neck. Its limp body was dead weight in my grasp, so I was quick to lie it on the ground and wiggle my knife free. It pulled wetly from its skull, a chilling grating noise traveling up the blade where metal scraped bone.

I had to get Killian. Mole rats traveled in colonies and, judging by the number of holes all around, we were probably sitting on top of a rather large one. We had to be quiet. Actually, I was afraid they might already know we were there. The loudness of the garage door opening should have been enough alone to wake even the dead, and the mole rats were very much alive. They should have attacked no sooner than they'd heard and felt the garage screech open. But they didn't…which meant that they'd been waiting, likely for Killian and I to be lulled into a false sense of security. I stood up quickly, turning to head back in the garage – but I was too slow. The ground in front of me exploded and dirt flew towards my face, particles hitting me in the eyes and causing me to stumble back. I tripped over the dead mole rat, and then I stepped in the hole it had crawled from. I was pitched backwards, and my ankle clicked ominously as I fell. Bright white pain raced up my right leg and down to my toes. All of that was pushed to the wayside as the pink blur shot towards me with an angry scream.

Killian's bat cracked down on its back, and the mole rat collapsed mid-lunge to the ground where it scrabbled in the dirt, its back legs dragging useless. Killian let out a cry of exertion and brought the bat down again, this time on its head. It laid limp, dead. I pulled my foot from the hole, gasping as the simple movement sent more pain tracing up and down the nerves in my leg. Killian was beside me in an instant, hauling me up by the arm and ready to support me.

"Are you okay?" He panted.

"Get to the garage." I ordered, taking the bat from him and handing him my gun.

He fumbled with both hands, holding it like it was a venomous snake I'd tossed his way. "Kit, what-,"

"There's more coming." I snapped, taking my weight off of him and standing on my own two feet. My eyes watered fiercely as I did but, as I felt the vibration of more bodies running under out feet, adrenaline covered most of the pain. "Go. Shut the door, alright? They can't get through concrete."

His fingers tightened around my wrist, trying to pull me with him. "Let's go, then-,"

"If we both hide inside, they'll swarm the building." I said, shoving him off and towards the concrete-lined garage. "Go, I'll be fine."

"You're hurt-,"

"Killian, go!" I yelled, shoving him more roughly this time.

He grimaced but did as I asked. Running back towards the garage, I limped after him at a much slower pace. He raced over to the wall-box and yanked the lid open, glancing at the button and then at me. I nodded, stopping once I was on the concrete sidewalk that led from outside the garage door to the nearest entry into the station. He hit the button, and the door came screeching down – much too slowly. Pink clawed hands poked out of the dirt, digging scoops out of its way. I was reminded of a horror movie I'd watched with a few friends in middle school. _They Walk Again_ had been a black and white movie about zombies. There'd been a scene where the undead had clawed their way out of their coffins and graves with just their rotten fingers. I didn't sleep comfortably for weeks after seeing it. And now, it felt like I was living it.

I hobbled forward, raised the bat over my head, and brought it down. The mole rat screamed in pain, and I heard a thud after a few seconds as it fell back to the bottom of the tunnel it had dug. No sooner than I'd taken care of that one, another hole was being dug.

It was like a twisted game of whack-a-mole, me lurching from hole to hole at the sign of movement and whacking the creatures back to whatever hell they'd crawled out of. Killian kept calling for me from inside the garage, and I kept yelling back affirmations that I was okay. Truthfully, I was getting tired. My ankle, hopefully only sprained, was throbbing and taking a lot of the fire out of me. My arms were tingling from missed hits where I'd hit the ground instead of the pliant mole rat bodies, sending tremors up my arms into my shoulders. As I struck one after the other, their tempo started to slow and fewer and fewer attempted to get close enough to damage. If I had to guess, they were balancing the reward against the cost. If they could down me, they'd get a good meal. But I was injuring more of them than was likely worth the risk. That was fine with me, as long as they stopped coming.

My strategy had been to stay on the concrete, keeping my back to the garage door and therefore only allowing the mole rats to come at me from the front and the sides. My mistake came when I gave chase to a limping mole rat that ran screaming towards a distant hole, dragging its back leg behind it with blood seeping out of its nose and mouth. I put a large swath of bare ground between me and the concrete behind me – a very bad thing. The raspy scream directly behind me had me spinning around, raising my bat, but I was too slow. The ugly pink creature had burst out of the ground just outside of the garage, it's wicked sharp rodent teeth on display as it charged toward me. It was a fresh one, angry and uninjured. It lunged at me, going airborne and reaching for me with wicked claws.

It happened in slow motion. My bat was raised above my head, but it was already too close to hit. I was going to get bit, and I was going to get bit bad. A black and brown blur shot in from my peripheral, slamming into the pink creature and returning time to its normal state. An angry snarl eclipsed the mole rat's screech of pain as the blur caught it around the neck and shook the rodent like a toy, dancing backwards to keep the mole rat's claws from catching fur-covered skin. I watched in awe as the blur slowed down enough to be revealed as a dog – and not just any dog. A _beautiful_ German Shepherd, with a thick and healthy coat and bright intelligent brown eyes that were darkened with fury as it mauled the rat.

I blinked rapidly a few times, the head of my bat falling to the ground with a thud as I tried to decide if I was actually seeing a German Shepherd, or if I was just hallucinating. The dog only had to tussle with the mole rat for a few seconds before it fell still, dead. I was truly taken aback, mouth slack jawed and eyes wide as the Shepherd turned towards me with the mole rat still clenched in its maw. Its body dangled limply, looking like it was only hanging onto its head by a few tendons and skin. Large black ears perked towards me expectantly, the dog's long-haired tail wagging slowly as he stood there…like he was waiting for something.

It took me a few moments to find my voice, but I didn't lower my guard just yet. I couldn't be sure that the dog wouldn't turn on me next. I had a gut feeling that he wouldn't, but I couldn't be too careful.

"I…wow. Good…good dog?" I complimented unsurely.

That must have been the magic word, because his tail shot into hyper-speed and the mole rat fell dead from his mouth as he trotted towards me happily with a lolling tongue and pink teeth that half-looked like a canine smile. I backed up quickly with the word 'whoa' repeating on my lips at his advance. I ended up climbing up on top of a stack of tires to get away from him, balancing precariously on the rubber rings as the dog placed his front paws up on them as well.

"No!" I reprimanded nervously, snapping my fingers and pointing towards the ground. "No, no! Down!"

I about smacked myself in the head in self-disgust as I remembered this was a random, strange dog and he wasn't going to listen to commands –

The line of thought was cut off as the dog cocked his head at me curiously before hopping down and taking a step backwards. His tail was still wagging but lowly, as if he seemed slightly confused as to why I was suddenly yelling at him. I was in the same boat, but more surprised that he'd performed as instructed me. I frowned uncertainly.

"Sit." I ventured.

On command, the creature fell to his haunches with swift obedience and ears pointed toward me keenly.

"Lay down?" I pushed.

He slid to lie down on his stomach, tongue falling out of his mouth again as he panted away.

"Stay." I said cautiously, slowly easing my way back down onto the ground. "Stay. Ssstay."

He followed my progress with those eerily intelligent eyes, but he didn't move a muscle except to get a better look at me by turning his head. Once on the ground, I regarded him warily and then the silent molerat holes before falling into a crouch. Looking at him, and from seeing how well he followed directions, I knew he had to belong to someone. He seemed well fed, unharmed, and he was obviously trained. I leaned the bat against the tires before reaching my hand out to him tentatively.

A black nose jutted forward eagerly to inhale the scent off of my fingers, and it took everything in me to not jerk away from the sudden movement. His moist nose pressed against my skin as he inhaled eagerly, working his way from my fingers and then up to my wrist. He started to push to his paws so he could work his way up my arm, but when I sharply repeated the word 'stay' he sank back down and settled for what he could reach from the ground.

"Good boy." I praised, a smile pulling on my lips as I reached for his head.

He dipped it eagerly, offering me his large and fuzzy ears. I slowly petted his head, stroking the ridiculously soft ears and making sure to drag my nails in the special sweet spot on the back of his neck that almost every dog had in common. This one was no exception, a low groan exiting his lungs and his back-leg twitching.

"Good boy." I repeated, letting my hand drift towards his neck out of foolish habit.

When one found a lost dog, the first inclination is to find a collar with ID so you can return it. Of course, it now being the apocalypse, I only felt like an idiot.

"Who do you belong to, huh?" I asked, continuing to greedily pet the Shepherd.

He didn't seem to have a problem with it, even falling over onto his side to bare his belly to me. I complied, and he flipped onto his back completely as I dug my nails into the thick fur of his stomach, back leg really going now. I loved dogs, always had, and the simplicity of this moment was making me jealously cling to it.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing I've seen in two hundred years." I joked weakly, already feeling my heart ache as I watched him. "I just wish I could take you home. Wouldn't that send Kiefer into a tizzy, huh? He's sick, laid up in bed, sends us out for food and supplies, and we come back with a dog?"

The Shepherd didn't react, too busy enjoying my petting.

"But, you obviously belong to someone." I sighed in disappointment. "And I'm no dog thief."

I pulled my hand away just as I heard Killian's voice and the station door slide open. He stepped through the door, gun up and ready as he scanned the immediate area cautiously.

"Kit, are you okay, it got quiet and I – holy mother of God, what -,"

The dog jumped up at the sight of a new person but, as Killian dropped the barrel of the gun and fell back against the doorway in shock, the canine remained standing beside me.

"It's okay!" I assured my younger brother. "It's fine! He's fine. He won't hurt you. Isn't that right, boy?"

The dog barked, giving a full-body shake and a sneeze.

"That's a dog." Killian whispered. "That's a dog, Kit – a real one."

"I know." I nodded.

"Are-are you okay?" He stammered out.

"I think so." I frowned, looking down at myself and then at the pink bodies scattered around. "He sort of saved my life –,"

Shock stopped me from finishing my sentence as one of the pink bodies laying bloody and motionless suddenly disappeared as a hole formed underneath it. A living mole rat grabbed its deceased brethren and yanked it into the subterranean tunnels. I shivered, seeing the same thing happen to a couple more dead mole rats. The dog stood stiffly still as he watched, his ears twitching in the direction of the scrabbling noise and a growl vibrating in his throat.

"I guess they have their meal." Killian concluded grimly. "Tell me that means we can finish scrounging and then get the hell home?"

"Sure." I said slowly. "That's sounds good."


End file.
